


Walk the Line

by Bluebutterflydays



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Crime, Drama, Gen, Human AU, contemporary western au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 77,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebutterflydays/pseuds/Bluebutterflydays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contemporary-Western Human AU.<br/>Marianne Fairman is a Sheriff's deputy in a small county split into three part: The town and farmers, the reservation, and the new Army post. Her father is Mayor of the town, her fiance running for Sheriff and all is well and small in her life. Or so she tells herself until one day on a frivolous call, she finds a body half-stuffed in a drainage pipe along the wall of the military base.<br/>What follows is a series of revelations that turn her life upside down and force her to take a stand all on her own. Until the case is brought to the attention of a particular foreign national Special Agent preceded by a ruthless and relentless reputation. Conspiracies and scandal abound as they work together and against each other to solve the case. For Marianne, however, Special Agent Kenrik Bogue can only mean trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t unusual for livestock to go missing. When fences weren’t maintained or gates left open, they just sort of wandered off. It likewise was not unusual in this town for owners to cry theft the moment one of their animals went missing.

Most of all, it was not unusual that most of these calls came from the Hayworths. They had two factors working towards the favor of frivolous reporting of events. First, they were disgruntled about the development of surrounding lands and thus highly suspicious of the Army post built against their western borders. Second, the father of the family was a notorious drunk.

Of all these eventualities, the only one that bothered Marianne, however, was that she was pretty much exclusively assigned to these types of calls. She supposed she should be grateful. With her father as mayor and her fiance being in the race for the next sheriff, it was a miracle that they did not stop her from staying in the department in the first place.

She kept telling herself that, but she certainly did not feel that gratitude.

“So you’re saying Buffalo Bill took your calf?” She stowed away her legal pad as Rudy Hayworth grinned that cocky, missing-tooth grin that signaled a long, reckless night before.

“Oh yeah, said he needed it for his new show. Something to do with Indian giving...” She could still smell the alcohol on his breath. He had undoubtedly left a gate open somewhere. She sighed.

He continued to grin at her and she, not for the first time, wondered if he truly believed his insane stories or if he simply used her to do the work he was too hungover to do.

“I see you brought your horse trailer...” He mentioned in a not-so-casual tone. She was suspecting more and more that his intentions were of the latter.

“Rudy...” She groaned and he nodded, “Where are your boys?”

He shrugged, looking to the side, “They took a load out to slaughter...or something...”

“Right...” She turned and rolled her eyes, looking out at her trailer and the impatient horse fidgeting inside it. It was already heating up, so she wouldn’t have much time that morning to look for the calf before it either died or her horse was spent.

“For real, we have about a dozen head ready to go this week,” He continued, his attempted deception making his voice rise an octave.

“Pretty small load, Rudy...” She looked over her shoulder at his nervous face, “And you have a driver for that”.

“Uh...” He scrambled for an excuse, “well...you see...”

“Did you know that the tribe leases out a tiny piece of land to this little shack of an auction house on their border?” She smirked, looking back out to the desert landscape stretching out toward the dark-tinted mountains. Tiny puffs of clouds rolled lazily by, clinging to their short existence beneath the unforgiving sun.

“It’s perfectly legal!”

“A loophole at best, Mr. Hayworth,” She adjusted her hat and pulled the trailer keys out of her front jean pocket, sliding her firearm holster back against her side belt loop, “Just know that if Tribal police catches word of you selling tainted cattle on their lands, there’s not a damn thing the Sheriff’s Department can do for you when it comes to how they want to deal with it.”

“Ain’t a damn thing wrong with my cattle!”

“Yeah, yeah, just a heads-up...” She descended the woods steps, not looking back as she headed for the trailer, “I’m gonna go find your calf now, try not to get into anymore shady business while I’m gone”.

He huffed his response, but didn’t say anything further, probably not wanting to test her gratitude in helping him retrieve his animal. The door to his house did slam shut, though.

Marianne shook her head as she unlatched the trailer and swung the door wide, revealing her black and white paint mare. She hoped she had put enough fear into the man about the consequences of his actions to get him to rethink them. Things were tense with the tribe as it was, what with the current sheriff wracking up harassment charges. She would need to give them a heads-up about the dealings before they cried conspiracy.

Not that she could blame them, she thought as she lead her horse to step down from the trailer and secured the lead to a tie loop at the side. She opened the front of the trailer and hoisted out her prepared rig. She tossed the saddle and blanket over her horse and quickly fastened the girth and collar, before slipping the hackamore bridle over the mare’s nose and ears.

“Alright Ladybug, I promise to make this quick,” She promised as she unclipped the lead and then swung up into the saddle, “Just one little calf, that’s all.”

She closed her eyes for a moment as they took off to the outside edge of the property. This was one part of these calls that she enjoyed, being able to have a few quiet minutes to ride and think and relax. When she was in the saddle, it was like all constraints just melted away and she could be her. She could almost fly.

More and more in her life it felt like she was being closed off, stopped from doing everything she wanted in the name of some great responsibility. Her upcoming nuptials were probably not helping that feeling, nor the thought of her husband becoming her boss shortly after. Her father was keen on her quitting her job after marriage and Roland did little to dissuade that thought. He never outright condoned it, but....

She could sense it in both of them, that a woman of her status should not be working in law enforcement, most decidedly not as a deputy. 

As they reached the carelessly open-flung gate at the west border, she fought the urge to just take off at a gallop to outrun her thoughts and instead stopped to examine the ground for tracks.

She loved Roland, so whatever came next mattered little next to their happy ending, she tried to convince herself.

The calf tracks in the dirt left going North, right through the alley between the high walls of the military base and the pipe and wire fence of the Hayworth ranch. There were no returning tracks, so this would be an easy enough job. She urged Lady forward and unhooked the rope from her saddle bag in preparation for the catching the calf.

At that very moment, however, a booming shot rang out, cracking through the silence and her horse took off with a startled jolt. In her unprepared state of distraction, she fell back against the cantle, only able to stop herself from falling further back and sliding off the saddle by the strength of her cores. She growled as she fumbled to reach up and get forward in the saddle. Using the rope in her left hand she let a loop of it catch the horn of her saddle as the galloping movement thrashed her around. With a groan she hefted herself up and grasped the reigns again as she pushed down in her seat.

She pulled the reigns toward her body until Lady’s nose dipped down and she slowed to a canter. Marianne then pressed the reigns across the right side of her neck until she pulled into a tight circle. In moments, she had the mare stopped completely.

“Geez girl, think you would have gotten use to that by now...” She mumbled and leaned forward to pat the already sweat-drenched neck of her steed, “So much for staying...”

She trailed off as the dust settled and her eyes landed on discoloration in the hard dirt around her, dark and thick. Immediately, her heart sped and she dropped down from the saddle.

She could smell it as she hit the ground, the dirt finally giving way to the unmistakable scent. She knelt down to touch it and roll the mud between her fingers.

It was congealing blood, but it was still wet. Her head shot around quickly, looking for the injured calf. Maybe a dog or wolf got it. Hopefully not another mountain lion...

No body in sight, she set her sights back on the blood. There was too much for it not to be fatal, so the body may have been dragged off. It would not hurt to get confirmation. Oddly enough, however, it seemed the blood was draining from the storm pipe against the tall, razor-wire topped wall.

“How....?” She walked over to it to examine and knelt down. Fingers to the inside lip of the pipe, they came away with fresh blood, “What?”

For an animal to be dragged over the wall was not just unusual, but impossible. She looked up to the razor wire and scanned it for hide or any sign that that was what had happened. Her eyes fell on a tear of blue cloth. She dismissed it as normal debris.

A tiny whine caught her attention, seeming to come from the pipe. Maybe if she could look through it she would at least be able to confirm that the animal was on the other side and talk the military police into lending her a hand.

She knelt down, setting her hat on a nearby rock so she could duck and peek through the foot-wide pipe. She sighed in frustration when she realized it was blocked at the other end and her eyes could not make heads or tails of the stretching darkness. She fumbled with her belt for a second until she found and unlatched the flashlight. Flicking it back on she smiled and knelt back down to point the light in...

Immediately, she dropped the flashlight in the mud and stood with a gasp that made Lady flinch.

“Oh my God,” She fell back to the ground and fumbled with the light, she had to be sure.

There in the pipe was a bloody hand and very clearly the top of someone’s head further back, matted with undoubtedly more blood and mud. 

It suddenly shifted with a weak moan, “Haa...”

Oh no, “Hey! Hey, can you hear me!?”

She reached frantically into the pipe, trying to reach the barely alive person, only able to graze the small fingers with her own.

“H-help....” The weak voice barely managed to say.

“Hold on.” She pleaded as she reached back with her other hand to take out her phone-

“Ma’am, step away from the fence!” A voice boomed near her. She looked back to see several uniformed and armed MPs.

“You don’t understand, there’s a-”

“Away from the fence!”

And then their barrels were pointed at her. Reluctantly, she pulled her arm out of the pipe and abandoned her efforts to retrieve her phone. She stepped away from the fence and glared down the soldiers. Their eyes went quickly to the badge on her shirt.

“Sheriff’s department?” The smallest one blinked and stashed away his weapon first.

“There is a woman dying inside your base!” She shouted at them as they all lowered their guns, “HELP HER, GOD DAMNIT!”

They faltered in their surprise and the only woman of the three came up to the pipe first and bent over to check. With a gasp, she stood again and turned to the other two.

“Call everyone, now! Ambulance, the chief, everyone!”

And just like that, another situation was out of her hands.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Buttercup, what have you gotten yourself into now?” Roland’s condescending voice suddenly sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She forced herself to face him, allowing his good looks to calm her irritation, not for the first time.

He was an exceedingly handsome man, blonde, chiseled, strong with striking green eyes. To top it all, he was seen as a hero for the uniform he wore. And all-around catch in the estimation of many. Marianne told herself once more that she was lucky to catch him.

“I was on a retrieval run for the Hayworths...” She explained, stripping off her stained button-up shirt to reveal a tank top, “There was a body at the wall.”

“The MPs say they found you snooping around the base,” He explained, “Sheriff’s a bit annoyed, you know.”

“When a person is bleeding out, I am not inclined to just walk past,” She spat out and swung her legs over the side of the gate separating their desks from the public area. She wadded up her shirt and tossed it into the chair of her station.

“The MPs say you also shouted at them.”

“Well then, I’ll send them a note saying how sorry I am to have hurt their feelings when a woman was dying...”

She dug her computer out of the desk and opened it, getting ready to fill out an incident report.

“Don’t bother with a report,” Roland said quickly, shutting the clamshell. Marianne blinked in shock at the action.

“Why?”

“Not our jurisdiction,” He shrugged.

“I was THERE. She was ALIVE. And now she's DEAD.”

“Did they take your statement?” He asked.

“No,” she scoffed, “of course not, I would have...”

“Then don’t worry about it...”

She looked up at him, he had that ridiculous puppy-dog smile that just melted her resolve. She conceded quickly, rationalizing in her mind that Roland would know this better, being in the running for Sheriff.

“Ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight?” He changed the subject.

She smiled, “I will be. I’m dying to try some of that brisket that’s been smoking all day... And after all the cows I’ve had to wrangle this month, it only seems like justice.”

He laughed that loud and enthusiastic laugh and she reminded herself again to be glad for her choices, whatever was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Marianne?” Dawn stood in front of her with hands perched atop her slender hips, eyeing her sister up and down.

Marianne looked down at her dusty jeans and still-sweaty tank top, “What? I didn’t have time to change. Got held up on the rez.”

Dawn rolled her baby blue eyes and grabbed her sister’s arm, dragging her further into their father’s large home. Marianne’s boots clacked disturbingly loud against the granite floor of the entry.

“You know, you should just let Sunny deal with that stuff, people on the rez hate us enough as is,” Dawn explained with a sigh.

“No, they hate me and Dad,” Marianne explained as she was dragged into Dawn’s room, “The law and the man... You’re the adorable, untouchable powder puff.”

“Powder puff?” Dawn giggled as she dug through her closet, “What was the deal today, huh?”

“Possibly some sick cattle being sold, the Hayworths...”

“Oh yeah, what happened out there today? There were MPs and sirens all around there on my way home this afternoon.”

Marianne sighed as her mind replayed her morning, the image of the woman’s hand and head stuffed into that tube seared into her brain. The smell of the blood caked the inside of her nostrils. It was not the first dead body she had ever seen. On the contrary, this time of year produced quite a few, even an odd murder here and there. However, the shock of having found the woman alive in such a state, the blood draining out like water, was not something her mind was quick to let go.

“There was...” she watched her sister sorting through the clothes and cautiously continued, “there was a body out there. Some girl on post. I’m not sure of the details.”

“Oh dear,” Dawn came out with a red cotton sun dress draped over an arm, “Do you suppose it was sun exposure again?”

“Maybe,” Marianne shrugged her barely lie.

“Here you go, Marianne,” Dawn said, triumphantly shoving the article into her sister’s arms, “You will look fantastic in this for the rehearsal dinner! You should go wash up, though...”

Dawn crinkled her nose at her sister one last time and Marianne stuck out her tongue, leaving the room. She walked down the high-beamed hallway and past her old room with a frown. This place was always so quiet, even with people in it. It never set well with her, the way the walls seemed to swallow all the sound. 

Once in the bathroom, she began to strip down, setting her loose items on the counter, and looked in the enormous mirror. She looked tired, older than she remembered. Maybe she was spending too much time in the sun. She brought a hand through her medium-length hair, getting her fingers caught in the process. With a yank, she pulled her hand free, tearing out strands of hair with it, all stuck to her elaborate engagement ring. 

She unwound the loose hairs from around the center diamond before removing the ring altogether. The thing was so clunky and cumbersome, she was tempted to just wear it as a necklace sometimes. She set it down next to her phone and realized a light was flashing with a notification.

She picked it up and realized she had a message from Roland. With a smirk, she opened it up.

‘I don’t think she knows, but I will keep her preoccupied and out of our business.’

“What?” She chuckled and set the phone down, running the words over and over through her head, trying to make sense of it. She stripped down the rest of the way and prepared herself to take a shower.

I don’t think she knows... Who? She switched the shower on and stepped in, wetting herself down and watching the dirt wash down the drain of the elaborately tiled stall. Maybe it was a wrong number text.

“Oh,” She faltered as she shampooed her hair. If it was a wrong number... What if the ‘she’ was supposed to be her!

Her heart began to sink. This was an old story, one so common it was a default conclusion in their cases involving relationships. She could feel it, not an ounce of surprise registering in her brain at the conclusion. Roland was cheating on her.

“No,” She shook her head under the steady stream of the shower, she did not have enough information to give into any foregone conclusions. The text could have meant anything, she had to let it go until she could ask about it.

She realized very suddenly that she could do neither. She had to find out what it was about and she did not trust Roland to not just say whatever it was that made him look good.

Oh shit, what was she thinking? She can’t trust Roland? She was about to marry the son of a bitch!

“Augh!” She sunk down to her knees, feeling tears burning behind her eyes. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t keep thinking about this. Yes, she would investigate all this tonight. She had to know for sure or she couldn’t marry him. 

As she finished washing herself, a small voice in the back of her head kept saying she should not marry him regardless, because she did not trust him.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The reception hall was off of main street, which looked absolutely beautiful on warm summer nights like this. Lights were strung like lanterns across building fronts and the road, all seeming to converge on the tiny park at the center of the town. On the other side of the park was the Sheriff’s department where she worked, but this side was comprised of bars and restaurants and almost always a party or two. There was more than one occasion where a call was responded to simply by taking a walk across the park.

Marianne tried to keep a smile plastered on her face as half the town filed into the venue, laughing and congratulating. This was not how a rehearsal dinner was suppose to go. To be honest, it turned out more of a party again, inviting everyone and saving the actual wedding for the more intimate affair. It was an exciting time for everyone, a converging of figureheads even. The next Sheriff was marrying the Mayor’s daughter. That’s all she was, after all.

She looked to the front of the hall where her father stood, plump and unexpectedly casual for having so much attention crowded around him. He caught her eye and smiled, his eyes bright and proud. Marianne found her returning smile to be genuine for the first time since she got that text. Her father would be so disappointed, though....

As the smile faded, she excused herself from a group of patrons and searched the room for Roland. They had not come together, he said something about having to make a stop at the station. It seemed he was not there yet. So, she squeezed her way through the crowd and out the front door.

“Marianne?” Dawn met her at the door as she was coming in, “Where are you going?”

Marianne looked at her younger sister, all beauty and innocence in a soft blue dress. At her side, as usual, was Sunny, her childhood friend, looking pleased as punch to see both the sisters.

“Congratulations, Marianne,” Sunny held out his tough and weathered hand to shake her own, but her eyes suddenly caught sight of Roland’s truck parked on the next street over.

“Don’t congratulate me just yet...” She said in a low rumble.

“What do you mean?” Dawn raised a brow as Sunny’s hand sunk with a shrug.

Marianne shook her head and then pushed past the two, “Nothing. Go get some food before it’s gone. Save me some brisket!”

“Will do!” Sunny called after her as she jogged across the street. Marianne could barely make out Dawn’s confused ‘what?’ as she made it to the park.

She was not quite sure what she was expecting. Roland told her he was stopping by the station and his truck was right there like he said. Trudging through the dying grass, she felt this was important. If he felt free to drop some facade he kept up for her, maybe she could at least catch some of it. Maybe it could help her understand what his words never would be able to.

So, as she crossed the second street and walked up the alleyway to the side door of their building, she was as quiet and stealthy as if she were sneaking up on an animal. The door, luckily, was unlocked, but it creaked slightly as she opened it. She winced, waiting to be spotted. It was easy enough to explain away, but would have negated her true purpose for being there in the first place.

Instead, she heard shouting...

“Do you want in on this or not?” Roland demanded, his voice rough and venomous.

“I just can’t be idle about this if any of the details come to light!” Sheriff Jones was the one shouting back, of all people. He sounded much more worried that Roland. Marriane tip-toed through the hall near the sheriff’s office and tucked herself in a nook by the maintenance closet.

“Yer the law here! You decide what gets out and what doesn’t. If you back me on this, as you have done up till this point, may I remind you, the MPs will see this as a simple courtesy and toss the evidence out!”

“The scandal of a deception like that on a federal level, though!” The sheriff shouted, Marianne’s heart sped, thumping inconveniently loud in her ears, “We would lose EVERYTHING!”

“Which is why this has to be tight,” Roland concluded, “Besides, I didn’t kill the girl, so it’s not like we’re lying by much.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Marianne’s face as she processed their conversation. Had she not been completely terrified at the moment at being caught, she may have just allowed herself to vomit out the sudden stress.

Instead, as she heard them rustling papers at the conclusion of their argument, she decided she needed to find more. She needed to know what the hell was going on. She slipped down the hall and to the desk areas, confident that she would hear them should they leave the office.

On Roland’s desk, she found his phone. Quickly picking it up, she fumbled with the passcode before settling on the date he had set the high school football record for touchdowns. When it came up, the background was a picture of them both, posed in front of the Grand Canyon a year or so back. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she opened his messages.

Immediately, a picture message came up with a non-local number with no name attached.

‘Got you. Get me something useful.’

She opened up the file and the picture loaded. It was surveillance of some sort and the time stamp indicated it was from the night before. The view was of the front gate of the Army post and she recognized the truck pulled up to the guard station immediately as Roland’s. There, leaning out the window, was his smiling face, talking some sort of nonsense into the gate guard, she guessed.

In the passenger seat, however, sat a young girl, looking nervous and tired, staring straight ahead of her. She puzzled for a moment over the significance of this girl and the conclusions she should draw from it, until an image hit her of matted hair and still fingers.

“It can’t be...” She whispers and then continues to flip through the phone, finding the text forgotten in the outbox. Checking time-stamps, she located her text sent when she got off work. Directly below it was a text from the Sheriff.

‘Your woman has been questioning me about the investigation for that girl you delivered. Make sure she stays in her lane and keeps quiet’

She recalled her questioning the sheriff for details about the body she found, mostly wanting to know the girl’s identity for the sake of closure. He had given her nothing, saying it was out of their hands.

So that text had been sent to the wrong person, and it was referring to herself... But it wasn’t a lover.

Oh Lord, how she wished it had been a lover...

“Darling, what are you doing here?”

His voice was like an icicle being driven down her spine. She set the phone down as quickly and quietly as she could before turning to face him, hands clinging painfully to the edge of the desk behind her.

“I... I was just looking for you,” She tried to keep her tone steady as she saw his eyes flit down to the desk behind and his smile faltered.

“Is the place hopping yet?” His smile returned and she attempted her own grin.

“Almost filled to the brim,” She forced out a laugh as she saw the sheriff grab his coat behind Roland and slip out the side entrance.

“We better get rollin’ then,” He nodded and walked up to her, crowding her almost instantly. She held a breath as he leaned over her, reaching to his desk. Their eyes made the briefest of contact, his bright greens suddenly cold and hard, threatening in a sense. But she looked away and he grabbed his phone and stepped back.

“Let me just lock up first, you go on ahead,” He all but ordered with his tone.

She nodded quickly and left, her whole body suddenly buzzing with dread. She ran as soon as the front door slammed behind her. This was way too much. She thought she would be devastated finding evidence of an affair, but for him to be involved in a murder... At the very least, he was the last person to have seen that girl alive and he was conspiring to lie about the reason.

Halfway through the park she stopped dead in her tracks and stared straight up at the clear, starry sky, swallowing whatever bile had managed to work its way up to her throat. She was a deputy, damnit, her whole job was to protect people, to squash this sort of corruption. Why was she so scared of just one man?

She found a bench and took a seat, she would give this one confrontation, soft as can be so as not to incite violence, and then she would make her moves. NOBODY should get away with this.

He walked up to her about ten minutes later. She stayed seated, holding herself despite the warm air. He did not say anything, did not smile, didn’t call her any sickeningly sweet name. Just waited.

“Roland,” She started, spikes of doubt lodged in her throat, “If you were into something... In trouble or anything... You would let me know, right?”

He looked away from her and toward their party with a small smirk.

“If anything were to happen to this good town, to these people-”

“That is so sweet,” He tittered, “That ain’t how it is, Buttercup. Towns don’t run from the top down, not when the money’s at the bottom...”

“What-”

“And anyway, it’s nothing for you to worry about. You’ll be taken care of, if you stay in your place.”

She just stared at him, open-mouthed, unbelieving of all that she was hearing. He looked to her with a boisterous guffaw and shook his head before walking towards the party.

It’s funny, she thought as she fought to unfreeze herself, how different the world can start to look with just a flash of the bright and burning truth to light it up. Everything was terrifying, how had she not seen that before? Danger could come from any direction, even in this small town.

In a daze, she found herself back at the party, where the Sheriff was currently at the podium congratulating his deputies preemptively. She fell against the back wall and watched with cold eyes as the old haggard man continued to talk.

“And I would like to announce that I am withdrawing from the race for Sheriff this election and officially retiring-”

Marianne shook with her fear and anger, trying to brace herself, compose herself.

“I guess my first wedding present is announcing that Roland Greeley, running unopposed, will be the next Sheriff!”

“No,” Marianne breathed out as a replay of her day went through her mind over and over again. The room erupted with cheering and Roland happily stepped up beside the Sheriff, waving politely at his admirers. Her vision was going red, her mind screaming. That bastard! That disgusting bastard will destroy everything.

Before she knew it, she was shoving her way towards the podium and the internal scream was an outward shriek of defiance and despair. She climbed onto the state, no thought for her delicate attire.

“No!” She declared loudly, the room quieting to a shocked hum. She stood straight, shoulders back, fists clenched at her sides. She would not be afraid for all her life, nor would she be contained.

“Sweetheart, what are you-”

“There are TWO WEEKS until the election!” She announced, her glare constant on both the Sheriff and his Deputy. She could say so much right now, she had most of the town’s attention. She could make a huge spectacle. She could just lay him out right then and there even, let the world know what a vile creature he was and then send him to hell. 

What did she have, though? Only her word, only her uncontrollable rage.

But no, she had her undying love and devotion for the people of this town, a need to protect the weak and seek out justice, and herself, stronger than anyone else ever wanted her to be.

She looked from the cowards in front of her and out to the crowd of wide eyes and camera phones, her focus resting only momentarily on Dawn and her father, looking shocked and concerned. She would make her stand, right then and there. She put a fist over her chest.

“I will be running for Sheriff!”

The room erupted again, this time in confused hysteria, murmurs and lots of questions. Marianne looked to Roland and the Sheriff, the latter of which looked entirely shocked and panicked. Roland, however, only glared back. She yanked the ring off of her finger and flung it to the ground, willing its impossible destruction, and then jumped down from the small stage, pushing her way back through the crowd, avoiding her family.

Dawn was the only one to reach her, right at the door again.

“What happened?” She asked with both pity and fear for her sister.

“The wedding’s off,” Was all she could say before she slammed out of the building and into the open night. Others filed out after her as she took off down the street at a hurried pace towards her vehicle. She wanted to drown them all out, she wanted to plan.

She made it to her car and fumbled with her keys as tears began to stream down her face. Giving up for a moment, she smacked the side of her car and turned to lean against it to compose herself. She found herself eye to eye with an election sign. It was one of the big ones driven into the ground by two huge stakes, spreading out almost six feet.

'Roland Greeley for Colt County Sheriff. Sheriff of the people."

Of course she would be looking at his suddenly repulsive face at that moment. His big green eyes and distinct features were plastered all over the town. She wanted nothing but to destroy him. In fact...

She pushed herself off the side of her car and strode decisively across the street, no traffic to hamper her. By the time she made it to the sign, her fists were so tight she was sure her nails had already caused her palms to bleed.

She cocked back and, with a long bellowing cry of both fury and agony, she drove her fist straight through the board, taking a large chunk of his nose and right eye with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be bringing in our Boggy Woggy soon, so don't worry ;) The next chapter will mostly take place about a year later. I'm excited to write it, so shouldn't take too long.


	3. Chapter 3

The top button of his shirt was hanging by a mere, stretched and abused thread by the time he finally decided to stop tugging at his collar and undo it.

“Blasted heat...” He grunted, rolling the button between his fingers. He wanted to say so much more about this place, though he had only just arrived the day prior. Given present company, his distasteful word-choice may be received as a bit rude.

“It’s actually quite nice in the fall” The shorter of his two escorts supplied enthusiastically.

“Shut it, Thang.” The woman driving the truck ordered and then addressed him, “we’re almost there.”

Best he could tell, his escorts were the same rank, though the man seemed to be willingly subordinate nonetheless, having filed into the back seat without question. He pondered at their assignment to him, they didn’t seem the most effective team they could have offered him, they had fumbled a few important messages already. He supposed it would only make sense if the base commander and MP officers decided he needed to be tossed to the wayside of this investigation. He did, after all, know how it felt for foreign agents to try and take over one of his cases.

But he would not in a million years come to this place if it were not important. And it was unforgivable to him to have been kept away from this crime scene for so long.

He plucked the button off of his shirt and stuffed it in the breast pocket so he would not lose it and turned his gaze to the dust-coated window. 

Only the murder of an Officer of one of the British Army Royal Corps could drag him into this blazing hellhole. And it would have to be a notable murder at that. Special Agent Bogue was not a man to be trifled with, but he was the most successful investigator in his Detachment. 

Maybe that’s why they thought he might have any luck in this God forsaken place.

“What’s this?”

The truck rolled to an abrupt stop, dust rolling into clouds up the sides. Bogue had been staring out the passenger side door, distracted at the time, but upon looking out the windshield noted that they were not alone.

The area was cordoned off, police tape strung from the brick fence to the railed one across the dirt roadway. A man stood just in front of it, squinting through the sun as he eyed down their vehicle.

“I thought the Commander cleared this site, Stuff,” Thang sounded nervous. 

“Hm... Looks like the local Sheriff’s department,” Stuff grunted.

Already fed up with this situation and the reluctance of his escorts, Bogue tore off his seat belt and shoved the door open.

“I’ll deal with it.” He growled and slammed the door behind him. He would have winced at the sudden baking heat were it not matched by the inner burning of his impatient anger.

He stomped his way towards the man, who seemed to grow increasingly nervous the closer he got, and silently cursed every detail of this dusty landscape. He stepped up to the deputy, perhaps a little too close, accentuating his demanding height. The deputy’s eyes widened and then shifted away, his posture suddenly shrinking.

It was just that easy, Bogue thought as he shoved his sleeves further up his arms.

“What is this?”

“A...a crime scene... Sir” The man stammered.

With a snarl, Bogue pulled out his badge and thrust it in the afflicted deputy’s face, “Special Agent Bogue. Royal Military Police, Special Investigations Branch. This is my crime scene now.”

He tried to push past, but the guy had apparently found an ounce of courage and blocked him, arms wide.

“I can’t let you do that. Sheriff’s orders.”

“What?” He said the simple word with such venom, he himself got a chill.

“We aren’t suppose to let anyone else on the scene...” He swallowed, “Even feds... Sheriff says this is our jurisdiction.”

The lack of accountability brought about by the man’s nerves was slightly amusing, but not enough to distract current rage.

“One of OUR soldier’s died,” He bellowed, “This is MY case and MY crime scene... Bad enough these incompetents from the base already stripped evidence...”

“It wasn’t just the soldier... Though...” He trailed as Bogue’s glare bore into him, “There were two girls...”

“Regardless... I need on that scene,” He jabbed his finger just over the man’s shoulder.

“I can’t... Without the Sheriff...”

His extended finger closed tight into a clenching fist.

“It’s true,” Stuff’s voice from the truck was timorous, “There were civilians. The Sheriff’s Department has the right to investigate.”

“And what about mine?” He demanded in a roar.

“We already cleared the military investigation.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was just the most recent in his long list of grievances since he arrived in this god-awful place. Every fiber of his being wanted to just tear through these people, throw them aside and do his job.

Being a foreign national, however, there was a line for him to walk that was a tad too thin for his compulsions. So her looked over the man’s head for a long moment, taking in what details he could about the scene, and then he turned and fixed his gaze on his escort.

“Take me to the Sheriff!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What am I gonna do with you?” Marriane flipped a hand in the direction of her sister sitting in the passenger seat of the bronco, currently soaking wet with an ineffective towel draped over her bikini-clad body.

“Sorry,” Dawn peered down at the seat beneath her, “I’m getting your truck all wet, I shoulda just sat on the towel.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“We were just having some fun,” Dawn huffed, “You remember what that’s like, right?”

“Dawn, they were serving alcohol, jumping off of cliffs into the lake, starting illegal fires and... And you were the ONLY girl there.” Marianne pulled at her short bangs in consternation.

“Sunny was there...”

“Sunny’s a boy too!”

“Yeah, but...” Dawn blew out a frustrated sigh, “You make such a big deal out of everything!”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Marianne defended.

“From what?” Dawn crossed her arms and glared out the window.

“From wh-DAMNIT Dawn! You know my job, right? I’m protecting you from all that! From becoming another call, a statistic....a victim...”

“It’s just Senior ditch-day. I can take care of myself...”

Marianne sighed deeply, her shoulders sinking as they pulled into the downtown area, “Dawn... I know you think that, but... People are bad, Dawn, and you are good. Good and adorable and trusting and bad people will take advantage of that. You won’t always know that they’re bad. Until it’s too late.”

Dawn stayed quiet, letting a heavy silence loom in the cab, the context of her words mulling about between them: a year’s worth of uphill battles, a poignant heartbreak, and, most disturbing, a string of seemingly random murders.

“Ugh, my hair is such a mess,” Dawn finally said, pulling down the mirror to examine her bright blonde locks.

“You drive me crazy...” Marianne muttered with a small smirk as she turned onto the main road, “I have to be at a scene, but I can drop you off at-”

She stopped her speech abruptly. They were pulling up past the park and she had a clear view of the Sheriff’s Department across the way. And the Army vehicle parked directly in front of it.

She cursed under her breath and flipped the car around at the next turn, pulling onto the street the department was on.

“What are you doing?” Dawn asked, “I’m gonna be late for the party tonight if I don’t wash my hair now.”

Marianne rolled her eyes, “This’ll only take a second. I need to see if they need help.”

Dawn sighed and crossed her arms as Marianne quickly parked and unbuckled, “Fiiine.”

Marianne hopped out of the truck and made a bee-line for the side door, quietly offering up her pleas to the sky that this visit from their neighbors would not be as eventful as the last.

Upon entering the building, however, all her hopes were dashed.

“I need ALL the notes for this case! This is MY case!” A tremendous voice rumbled through the walls from the common room, tinged with something a little strange and foreign, “I am DONE being hindered in my pursuits. Where is your SHERIFF?”

Marianne faltered for a moment, a bit of nerves stalling her momentarily, before she renewed her resolve with a swallow and marched through the hall and towards the voice.

When she entered the room, she was promptly assaulted with the presence of a gangly man, sharp and dark. She was surprised, though she did not know what she hand been expecting. His back was to her, hunched slightly, yet rigid and threatening. His shirt was crinkled and rolled, it’s high-thread cotton grimy with the desert’s daily abuses. He was tall and imposing and apparently quite pissed off. Every person in the room seemed to shirk away from him, even the two soldiers inching toward the front door.

“Can I help you?” Marianne asked loudly with a clear of her throat.

The man straightened for a moment before jerking around to face her. She tried her best to school her reaction, but found an odd rush running through her when his cold blue eyes met hers. His face, like his body, was sharp and dark, cheekbones and chin jutting out in gaunt features. His brows creased a hard line into his forehead as he glared. He had a fire to his expression that drew her in, though he seemed thoroughly dangerous.

“Only if you can bring me the Sheriff so I can resolve this...business.”

Marianne let out a low breath, her nerves evening at the reminder. 

“If I do,” She shifted her feet, getting an idea, “Will you knock off all this squabble and chill out?”

His lip went up slightly in what looked like a snarl, but he nodded nonetheless.

“In that case,” She sighed and tugged at the badge on her shirt, “Sheriff Fairman, reluctantly at your service...”

“You?” He growled, an eyebrow raising ever so slightly.

“Indeed,” She nodded impatiently towards the back rooms, “Care to step into my-”

“Marianne, it’s hot as hell! You took your keys! You know people get sent to jail for less.” Dawn stormed into the building, towel loosely hung over her shoulders, feet completely bare. A couple of her officers watched her a little too closely for Marianne’s liking, making it suddenly easy to decide who got to work the extra shifts over the weekend.

“Who is this?” Dawn asked, eyeing the tall man up and down before looking back to Marianne. He faltered, obviously confused by this tiny girl’s appearance.

“I was just about to find out,” Marianne grinned.

“Special Agent Bogue,” He offered, thrown off, “Royal Military Police, Special Investi-”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you Boggy,” Dawn chimed, the man’s face flushed rapidly.

“It’s Bogue!”

“Keys?” Dawn held her hand out to Marianne, still staring up at the imposing figure.

Marianne dug in her pocket and handed the keys over, “So, Special Agent Bog-”

He growled again.

“-What has you in my office disturbing the peace so thoroughly?”

“The crime scene by the fence.” His lip curled in distaste, “I need access.”

Marianne eyed him in all his displeasing appearance. She half expected someone to come by, given what they had found out about the murders, but she was sure it would have been their own feds, not someone from across the pond. She wanted to be suspicious, but his words and anger were far too genuine for her to read past.

“Are you here because of the drugs?” She said in a low voice. Dawn’s eyes went wide and she backed up a few steps, looking away.

“What? No,” He shook his head, his eyes wider, “I’m here because the soldier was a foreign national from the Royal Army.”

“In that case,” She took a deep breath, suddenly sympathizing with this man who had no doubt started to feel some of her pain from the last year, “You really should come into my office, we have much to discuss before you head back to that scene.”

A brief shock fluttered across his face, allowing it to relax into something slightly pleasant for the first time since their encounter. He blinked a few times before simply nodding.

“Dawn, go ahead and take the truck.”

“Are...are you sure?” Dawn looked between the two nervously and then at the door.

“Yes, I’ll find my way home,” Marianne reassured, “This is important.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“A year ago, I found a girl, dying in almost that exact same spot, other side of the wall,” Sheriff Fairman started out, taking a seat across from him at a large walnut desk.

Sheriff. This small woman was the county sheriff. He had to keep reminding himself in all his disbelief. She was easily half his size, an almost delicate looking thing with a mop of brown hair and a dark look in her eyes. Indeed, she did wear the uniform, have the badge... And the way she walked and commanded a room was unlike he had ever seen.

She was sheriff.. And she was the only person to try and help him in his duties so far.

“The investigation was unsatisfactory in my opinion and riddled with all sorts of corruption... Even this very department was part of what should have been an enormous scandal...”

“Should have been?” Why was she telling him all this?

“I was... Banned from the investigation. The sheriff and...one of the deputies were involved in the murder.” She looked down at the desk, fingers drumming over the wooden surface.

“What does this have to do with my case?” He demanded, growing weary of this long trail of a tangent.

She looked up at him, eyebrows lowered, a twinge of annoyance in her gaze, “It was in the same place. As were numerous reports of suspicious activity. Not to mention, the bordering landowner’s constant property damage”.

“You think it’s related?”

“I know it is.”

“So why haven’t you done anything?” He jabbed his finger accusingly.

“The evidence keeps getting destroyed or taken,” She snapped, “Everything is kept just out of my reach. I am made to look unstable, crazy in my ‘assumptions’”.

“You’re the Sheriff for crying out loud!”

She stiffened and then caught him by surprise by abruptly standing, “Yeah, no shit! And I’m still being fucking toyed with!”

A muted roar of frustration and disgust rumbled up from her throat and she turned away, walking towards the window. He could only sit, glued to his chair, and watched her short, pacing movements. She was acting like a caged tiger. He couldn’t help but wonder why...

“I worked so hard...” She growled and shuddered before regarding him with a brief side-glance, “There is a lead. That’s where the drugs come in. They were found at this latest scene on both the soldier and one of the girls. I was able to hang onto that much.”

“What drug?” He did his best to focus on his task, shaking off whatever odd feeling this woman had impressed upon him.

“Strangely enough, PCP.”

“How do you know it’s not just from a party? Who were the girls?”

She sighed, “I don’t know to either of those... I do know the girls are not from around here, but the PCP looked familiar”.

“It’s a pretty standard substance, it could be from anywhere.”

“Normally, yes, but this particular formula has been found around town lately,” She stared out her window, finally stilling, “You can note it by it’s peculiar appearance, a lustrous pink powder”.

“Pink?” The description struck him, his mind flashing back to a long-gone case and a highly eccentric woman.

“Yes, I believe they call it the-”

“Love Potion?”

She blinked over at him, “Yes...”

Bogue’s fingers curled into hard fists as he stood. The odds of this happening again... And here of all places, was slim. To have this ridiculous case now tied in with murder, however, was absolutely unforgivable.

“Where is she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That felt short.... but it's now time to get to the grits and gravy of this story, eh? 
> 
> I will warn you now... If I know me, and I think I do, this story might get kinda dark. I'm talking more peeps getting moidered, drugs, trafficking, the like... If you wanna abandon ship, I'd understand. I will add warnings to each chapter as material dictates. Hopefully, I'll be able to do so without making it spoilery.
> 
> Umm, also if you're curious about how Marianne became sheriff, you won't have to wait long for that explanation.
> 
> Last note: For some reason it made total sense to me for the Love Potion to be PCP and for Sugar Plum to be... well, you'll see, haha


	4. Chapter 4

“Dawn?” Marianne shoved her way through the partying teenagers in the too-small house, “Dawn!”

A boy’s shoulder bumped her and some very pungent liquid splashed all up the front of her button-up. With a growl, she turned a glare on the boy. She could have cut him some slack, she supposed, she kinda disappeared in this crowd, being shorter than most. There was just a few issues that had her wanting to start slapping cuffs on everyone, though.

Firstly, she would bet money that they were all underage. Next, this building was well over capacity, annoyingly so when she was searching for her sister... Which led her to the most nerve-wracking offense: Her little sister was somewhere in this boozy party and she wanted to start busting heads.

The only problem was...

“Oh shit, it’s the Sheriff!”

“Don’t worry, she can’t do anything on the Rez.”

...that.

She rolled her eyes and pushed her way through to a staircase. Technically, she wasn’t even suppose to be here, especially not in her uniform. But she had received a concerned call from Sunny just as she was locking up her office and hurried over. Her sister was going to great lengths lately to test her family’s nerves. All in the name of love.

She had no idea what this new boys name was, or if Dawn had even gone out with him at all, but she really did not care. This kind of party was no place for her sister.

“There you are!” Marianne found the small blonde girl dancing up to a tall boy, looking more than a bit intoxicated. She grabbed Dawn’s arm and began yanking her out of the house. Becoming use to it, Dawn simply followed with a disappointed huff.

Once out in the quiet open, Marianne rounded on her sister, “What were you thinking?”

“I...” her eyes wandered over Marianne’s shoulder and she knew Dawn had just seen who was seated in her truck, “Sunny, you jerk! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Marianne rolled her eyes and hiked her thumb towards the vehicle, “Don’t blame him. It was either I come get you or the Tribal police coming to break up this party do.”

“Bet he called in the tip, too...” Dawn grumbled.

“Just get in the truck,” Marianne sighed and turned to get in the vehicle, Dawn dragging her feet behind her. She opened the driver door, stopping a moment to marvel at the large star on the side marked ‘SHERIFF’.

That title still took some getting use to, she thought as she climbed in the truck. Her sister climbed in the passenger seat and immediately rounded on Sunny who sat in the back. He sunk low in his seat, taking a slightly nonsensical tongue-lashing in good stride, trying to calm her all the while.

Marianne tried to tune the ruckus out by rolling down her window as they rode down the dirt rode. The breeze hitting her face was just cool and fresh enough to indicate they may get a nice thunderstorm sometime that night. She would need to keep her phone near in case she had to aid in a motorist rescue when the washes filled up, as was so apt to happen under flash flood conditions.

It was just one of her many responsibilities over the last year.

Her life had been a whirlwind around the election. She ran it properly, as best she could in such a short time, but most of her time was taken up in trying to go about the correct avenues to expose Roland and the Sheriff for all their shady dealings.

Of course, the Sheriff at the time was no help. She attempted to produce evidence, going so far as to track down a judge herself for a warrant to seize Roland’s phone. Being only a deputy, he denied the warrant without the Sheriff’s blessing. That was when Roland volunteered the phone, stating that he could no longer stand by while her gossip tarnished his reputation as a lawman.

The evidence was, of course, gone at that point. She could have easily claimed it was deleted, were it not for the texts that Roland made sure WERE on the phone and the story that went with it.

“Yes, I was cheating on her,” He explained during a very public interview, “She found my texts and has been attempting to punish me ever since. I dunno, maybe she actually believes this nonsense she’s talking...”

It hurt her, to be labeled hysterical, maybe even insane. She sought out help from the Army base, looking for that surveillance footage, but it did not exist. They decided she was a bit crazy, too.

Oddly enough, however, in the eyes of the people, it was better to be crazy than a cheater. She won the election by a considerable margin. It wasn’t a victory she would feel proud of.

She didn’t even have to fire Roland after, he left to join the state highway patrol where she could never touch his career.

And with no leads, jurisdiction and far too many responsibilities of her own, she was forced to abandon her search for truth regarding the case of that poor young woman.

“Uhm...Marianne?” Sunny’s voice from the back seat drew her back to the present. She glanced back at him and saw his wide eyes glued to Dawn. She looked at her sister, noted the uncomfortable frown and green tint and pulled over at the side of the road. The door swung open and Dawn bent out, expelling the contents of her stomach promptly to the dirt shoulder. Sunny unbuckled and leaned over the front seat, rubbing his friend’s back as she heaved.

“Hm,” Marianne looked away from the admittedly sweet, yet disgusting scene and perched her arm atop the open window, staring out into the dark desert, smothering her irritation.

She was irritated a lot these days, it seemed. She was in a powerful position, but others still looked at her in a pitiable manner. The town did not trust her the way they should have. Her own father looked at her differently after the whole Roland incident. One minute, everything had been lined up and perfect, the next she had thrown Roland to the curb and her father was blind-sided.

He tried to talk some sense into her. Everybody tried to talk some sense into her. Nobody could just trust her and believe her.

She closed her eyes as a gust of wind brought a puff of dust into the vehicle, smelling the wet earth following behind it. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a small light flashing wildly in the distance. It appeared to be a flashlight out in the direction of the interstate. Perhaps a trucker was having issues and was outside his rig. He would be the highway patrol’s problem, she thought with a shudder.

“Alrigh’, ‘m good...” Dawn breathed out and sat back against her seat once more, head upturned and eyes closed. Sunny closed the door and buckled her back up before locking eyes with Marianne, his own etched with concern.

“She’ll be fine, I got her,” Marianne tried her best at a reassuring smile as she put the truck back into gear, “Let’s just get you home first.”

She dropped Sunny off, promising him that she’d make Dawn call in the morning so he knew she was fine. The guy really was hopeless when it came to her. 

Dawn, thankfully, slept for the remainder of the trip, the second half of which Marianne had to roll up the windows to keep the dust storm out. She spent the silence making mental lists of all that needed to be accomplished in her department over the next week.

Ever since that Special Agent showed up in their station, she had been caught up in trying to appease him. She thought at first that he may be a good ally in her investigation, but it changed fast once he had learned about the Love Potion. He was infuriated, and completely obsessed with finding Aura Plum.

Marianne knew the woman, of course. She knew pretty much every face in this town and Aura’s was hard to miss. The eccentric woman was damn near a staple character around the place. It was news to her, however, that she had been responsible for the PCP.

All the digging and prodding in the world in pursuit of her was pointless, however, as she was an honorary member of the tribe and lived on the reservation. Out of the reach of her department and protected by a council that felt very sourly towards herself, given her father’s actions as mayor.

When she got to the street turn-off for her father’s estate, she slowed. Dawn still lived with the man and he undoubtedly was awake and worried. Yet, Marianne really did not feel up to talking anything out with him that night. She was too tired to see that same sad look in his eyes that told her she was different, defective, and she didn’t have what he was sure she needed.

She sped up again and passed the turn, making her way to the south of the town and towards her own house. She would call their father when she arrived and explain.

By the time she pulled up her long dirt drive, thunder was loudly rumbling accentuated by the random bolt of lightning. The storm was closing in and the wind howled threateningly. 

She was about to shake Dawn awake when a light on in her barn caught her attention. Maybe her neighbor was feeding the horses late. She frowned and looked at the sleeping Dawn again. Her intoxication would be more than obvious and the neighbor lady, though well-meaning, was a hopeless gossip. The last thing their family needed was for the youngest to earn a reputation as a party girl.

Part of Marianne really couldn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought, but she knew the person it would take the hardest toll on was Dawn herself. With that in mind, she stepped out of the truck on her own, shielding her eyes as a gust of wind blew a small wall of dirt over the property. She pulled her undershirt up and over her nose and mouth and jogged to the barn.

She opened the door, fully expecting to see her neighbor there throwing flakes of hay into the feeders.

“Oh thank goodness, you finally came home!”

The high voice made Marianne jump almost out of her skin. There, hanging over the edge of her mare’s stall was the tiny and elusive Aura Plum.

“Aura, what the hell are you doing in my barn?”

The woman pushed back from the stall, her wispy dress flowing around her calves. She pushed a bright lock of blonde hair away from her sparkling blue eyes.

“I thought we were on good terms, Marianne?” Her smile turned to a small pout.

“First name terms?” Marianne chuckled.

“Pardon me... Sheriff Fairman, then,” She did an exaggerated curtsy and rolled her eyes, “Why are you sicking Scotland Yard on me?”

“Special Agent Bogue?”

“Special Agent, that’s gonna take some getting use to... I always knew him as “DETECTIVE Bogue”,” She put on a low mocking voice, puffing her chest out, “I damn near left that country because of him”.

“You never mentioned to anyone that you lived in Scotland, Plum,” Marianne walked to the stall and leaned against it beside the small woman, “Or that you had been in quite so much trouble with the law”.

“Ugh, I had to make money somewhere,” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the stall door, “I was with the gypsies then, best way to get around, find buyers... Oh and I had such a good gig going on. Love Potion! People went crazy for that concept... Made you feel great, too! Took me back... I was a hippie back in the day, you see.”

“No,” Marianne dramatized sarcastically.

Plum gave her a flat look before continuing, “I guess I sold to the wrong girl one day... Because next thing I know, I’ve got Detective hard-ass on my case with a personal vendetta against me.”

“Personal? Why’s that?”

“I got the feeling that he was sweet on the lady he kept asking about, had me worried. I thought something happened to her,” She rested her hand on her chest and shook her head, “I would never want to distribute something to hurt my clients. She was fine, though. In fact, the baggie used as evidence weighed the same as when I sold it... I got five years.”

“Five years!? That’s a Schedule II offense for drugs!”

“Class-A in the UK... But there was never enough evidence, they got me for possession”. Plum shrugged, “Five years was enough, though”.

Marianne considered her words and searched her face for any sign of a lie. Her mare, Lady, came over and started sniffing in Plum’s hair as the wind howled outside. Plum laughed and turned to gently stroke the horse’s snout.

“So, you’re not distributing Love Potion out here?” Marianne inquired.

Plum chuckled as the horse sniffed by her ear, “Why would I?”

“Oh gee, I dunno, money?”

“You know the wife makes plenty off of the resort. I don’t make out to shabby with trinkets and herbs....” She looked down, absently scratching behind Lady’s ear, “Besides, that would just break Anita’s heart... Seeing more drugs peddled through the Reservation”.

“Is that why you quit dealing?”

“I never would have met her if I were dealing... I realized long before her, there was no good in what I was dealing,” The thunder outside rumbled louder as she continued, “It felt great sure, but it wasn’t a substitute for true emotional experience”.

“It wasn’t real...” Marianne looked down, her heart beating in time with the flashing memories. Past deceptions, mostly her own saying over and over again that she loved Roland. Nevermind that he had lied to her, she had lied to herself first.

“But you know,” Plum smiled over at Marianne, “Anita was the real deal. She’s the force that brought me all the way over here”.

Marianne scoffed, “What happened to the story of you being visited by some celestial being and given a vision of the desert”.

“It stands. My angel was visiting the country on vacation,” Plum giggled, “Love is strange”.

Marianne stared into those blue eyes, full of love and nostalgia and, as much as she yearned to, she could not disagree with her.

“So if it’s not you peddling the product of YOUR invention....” Marianne started out, but the beating of rain against the barn roof made her look up.

“Oh dear, I had hoped I would be able to get home before that storm hit...” Plum sighed.

Something clicked in Marianne’s brain, “I didn’t see your car here...”

“Oh, I walked!”

“From the Reservation?” That was a good 2 hour walk away, at least.

“Well, yeah.” Plum nodded.

“So crazy...” Marianne muttered and then pushed off the side of the stall, motioning to the door, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back... Just... Don’t wake up my sister please”.

“Your sister?”

“Yes and don’t ask...”

 

 

Bogue stared down at his hands, fingers pressed tight together and tried to be mindful of his breathing. He was seated on the edge of his bed in the shabby lodging room on post.

He was trying his best to process his day without getting angry again, but it was difficult. Painfully difficult. 

He had spent the better part of the week following the drug lead, trying to find Aura Plum... But today they finally released the autopsy report to him. It was a mess of illegible scribbles for the most part. Two things he was made certain of, however.

The soldier had been shot in the head after he was dead. The true cause of death had been asphyxiation. The bruising indicated blunt force was applied to his neck until his larynx was crushed. His death was not quick, but it was certainly painful.

The other fact brought to his attention was that his toxins screen had come back clear. 

What role might the Love Potion have played in this murder, he wondered. He tried to inquire on the tox-screens of the two girls. He was brushed off, as he was becoming accustomed to.

The smallest things lately were becoming an uphill battle. It was getting to the point that he was starting to feel bigger forces were at work to hinder this investigation.

His fingers began to twitch in his tense frustration, so he took a deep breath and let it out long and slow, dropping his hands down between his knees. Good Lord, but he needed a drink...

A monstrous crack of thunder made him jump. The wind beat a sudden downpour against his window, rattling the glass panel into a percussive disruption.

“Alrigh’,” He gazed upward a moment, “No drink then...”

He flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling trying to will himself to think about anything else.

Sheriff Fairman came to mind. That small, strong woman, warm brown eyes discerning, body language commanding. She moved as if she expected to be attacked at any time, shoulders tense, stride fluid. He had been angry and demanding when he first met her, but she seemed to understand. She was accommodating to his needs for the investigation as best she could. More than that, she seemed to be in the same frustrating position that he was thrust into. She was pushed into the same corner he was trapped in...

He would have much liked to push her up against a wall and....

He shot straight up, “What?”

His phone started to ring as the sky once again rumbled its reprimand. Shaking himself, he leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed his cell. It dropped from his hands to the bed like a hot iron when he glanced the number calling him.

A deep breath.

He picked up the phone.

Another deep breath.

He accepted the call.

“Sheriff Fairman?”

“Yes,” Her voice was tired, husk and warm, “Special Agent Bog-”

He didn’t bother to correct her, it rolled off her tongue so beautifully. He imagined her mouth moving, the frame of her dark, plump lips...

“- I found Aura Plum.”

“What?” He woke from his sinful reverie.

“Well, more like she found me. She showed up in my barn....”

“What?” He repeated, a bit more loudly, “Are you still there? Do you need backup?”

She snorted and laughed, “No, no, I just dropped her back off at her home”.

“What!?” How many times would he say that...

“She’s not making the Love Potion,” She stated with so much certainty that he had to stop himself from just taking her word for it.

“Like hell... It’s her signature! And she’s here for crying out loud!”

“Yeaahh... I think it’s a copycat,” She sounded uncertain how he may react. 

“How can you be sure? Did she tell you that?”

“More or lesss...”

“You can’t trust that woman! She got out of what could have been a life sentence with her manipulation...”

“She just got rid of evidence, it’s not so hard....”

“Wait, she told you about that?” His heart started beating wildly in his chest, “What else did she tell you”.

There was a pause. He could almost feel her considering what to tell him, weighing it against how he seemed to be reacting to it. He knew in that moment that she knew enough...

“She said that you had a personal vendetta against her,” She stated slowly, “ That there was this girl...”

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He wanted to defend himself, to reason it all out. He did not want to further color her views of him, however, or risk whatever professional clout he may still have with the county sheriff.

“Anyway!” She huffed out, “Plum has a bit of a reputation around these parts.... She talks. A LOT”.

“Indeed...”

“When she’s drunk, she tells secrets”.

“You got the suspect drunk?”

She laughed again, heartily, he almost wanted to smile, “No, no... I just have this hunch, see. She seemed kinda proud of her work making the Love Potion. I can totally see her bragging about it with enough liquid incentive. As successful as she made it sound, it might be an attractive prospect for some of the producers and dealers around here. Something to set them apart from the Cartel product that gets pushed up...”

“Do you guys seriously have that big of a narcotics problem down here?”

“Let me just put it this way: I have the DEA on speed dial...”

“Hm...” This place was growing more nefarious each day it seemed, “But that’s beside the point... How can we be sure it’s not Plum?”

“Verification, yes, that’s where you come in,” She sounded delighted, “Do you have access to the original drug’s information? Chemical makeup perhaps?”

“I could probably get it.”

“I already sent our evidence up for a full analysis. I don’t believe Plum would be able to walk a person through all the ingredients and process drunk. I’d bet a buck that the formula is entirely different”.

“Yes, but... What if it is different and she just changed the formula?”

“Well then, I suppose it’s good that she allowed me to search her home and has opened up both her and her wife’s businesses for us to comb over next week.”

“Wife?” He drew back. He had never envisioned Plum in any sort of serious relationship. He always saw her as an aloof fool, getting her own, no matter who she ruined.... Of course, she had remained a fixture villain in his mind for many years. A flat, unlikable character.

“Mhm, they’ve been married a while now. That’s how she ended up with the tribe.”

“I guess she’ll say she’s changed...”

“You can see for yourself,” She sounded annoyed, “I talked her into meeting with you.”

“What?”

“Right... I think that’s enough ‘What’s for the night,” He could hear her yawning on the other end of the phone, “If you can just work on getting that drug report, I’d like to meet with you in the morning and discuss the autopsy reports, exchange notes, the girls for the soldier, vice versa... And then if you’d like, I think I can get us on the Rez to probe a few sources about the recent trafficking activity, see if we can’t snag us a viable suspect. Won’t be able to meet with Plum till Monday, though, the Resort and tourists are booming over the weekend”.

She had a plan. For the love of all things good, this woman had a plan! And she was sharing it all with him...

“... Why are you being so... Cooperative, nice...” He asked suspiciously.

“Because...” He could hear her shifting around on the other end, “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who wants to solve this case as much as I do”.

His heart did this weird fluttering thing as a weight lifted from his head.

“We can be allies, right?” She asked meekly, then chuckled to cover the tone “Maybe partners in justice?”

“I... Guess...” He thumped his chest to try and stop it from continuing its foolishness.

“Excellent. It’ll be a pleasure finally being on the same page as you, Bog...”

He opened his mouth to correct her, but all he could manage was a painful, “Yeah...”

“Um, Nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I gotta take care of something first,” She groaned, “But um... Dress casual, the last thing we need is to stick out.”

“Alright. Um... Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Please, call me Marianne”.

Oh God, no... Not the first name. He punched his heart again.

“M... Marianne.”

She paused, perhaps waiting for him to state his own name. But he was frozen, brain planted firmly on her name, skin tingling. He said nothing until she sighed.

“Alright, tomorrow then,” She breathed, “Goodnight, Bog.”

“Goodnight,” He choked out and then jammed the red button on his phone as hard as he could before throwing it to the other side of the bed.

This was unexpected, he reflected as he covered his mouth, this was entirely inappropriate! He rubbed his fingers against his stubble and imagined, if only for a moment, what it might feel like to have her hands on his face instead, caressing...

“Marianne,” He let her name play on his tongue, savory and intense, and he wanted to say it again, over and over. 

How had it come to this so suddenly? He had only tried to calm himself down, not fantasize about the Sheriff helping him! He had a murder to solve!

But her voice offering up an alliance, messing up his name. What had she looked like, tired and sincere? What had her lips looked like forming those words, what was in her eyes?

He sunk back down to the bed with a frustrated shudder. The wind howled through the cracks in the window, whistling a haunting tune. Outside, the rain still pounded, the countless drops obscuring into a wet roar. 

He thought of her tonight, getting into bed, listening to the same song that nature was performing for them. Being lulled to sleep beneath soft sheets, burrowing into her pillows.

A flash of lightning lit up the dim room, followed by the crack of accompanying thunder, resolute and demanding in its power and volume.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Sexual tension!
> 
> Whatever helps you relax, Bog man... I don't judge.
> 
> Uhh, so yeah, Plum is a total hippie... I actually love her character. I can't decide how far I want to develop her wife, but I suppose it will come with whatever is pertinent to the story.
> 
> Dawn is totally outrageous... sorta.
> 
> Marianne is ON IT!
> 
> Sunny... poor Sunny, you'll get more "screen" time soon.
> 
> And very soon.... Roland will rear that asshole head of his again. And we'll be all like "NOOOOOO WHYYYYYY?"
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: What's gonna work? TEAM work! ... or something to that effect.


	5. Chapter 5

Marianne had an ominous feeling about today. She reflected on this as she adjusted her simple sleeveless blouse for the hundredth time that morning, doing her best to look proper, yet nonchalant as she leaned against the rusty old farm truck and waited in front of the convenience store right outside of the Army post.

It wasn’t so much that she feared what was to come, but she was certainly nervous. The closer it got to the meeting time she established the night before, the more her stomach churned.

She was hopeful that they could make some leeway today, possible get a few steps closer to breaking everything wide open, but she also felt a great deal of relief at having someone working beside her.

How nice a thought, to have someone stand beside her without the preconceived notion that she was touched in the head. She hoped for it with everything she had, because the journey so far had bore her a heavy, lonely burden.

“Lonely?” She mumbled.

A jeep pulled up in front of her old truck, screeching to a stop. That must be him...

“You’re meeting with the cooky Colt county sheriff?”

Marianne stiffened at the first words she heard pour out of the vehicle, dread filling her.

“They told us we’re not suppose to talk to her.”

“Stuff! Thang! I would keep your insubordinate traps shut if yer fond of those ranks!” Bog’s voice boomed over the two, who promptly fell silent.

Marianne smirked in a sweet respite as he left the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. She pushed off of her truck and smoothed out the front of her shirt one last time as he approached, plodding over with heavy, irritated footsteps as he waved the jeep away. He was wearing jeans and a simple black t-shirt. She could not help but note that his legs were rather long and lean.

When he looked up, her breath hitched involuntarily. Their eyes met, amber to blue, his widening for a fraction of a second. He looked away from her again and closed most of the distance between them before regarding her once more.

“Good morning,” Marianne greeted.

“Mornin’” He answered, looking around him uncomfortably. Marianne weighed her options, this was not the place to begin their discussions. Her morning had already been busy and frustrating enough, trying to get her Father to calm down and believe her. Granted, she was lying this time to cover Dawn’s tracks, so she didn’t have much right to feel hurt by the distrust. It still stung like picking at a barely set scab, though. Her energy was all but sapped by the time she made it to their meeting spot.

“Um... Breakfast? Coffee?” She offered with a shrug of her shoulders.

He looked back to her, eyes guaging her own in a rattlingly intimate silent exchange, “Yes, please”.

“I know a place-”

“Anywhere is fine.”

“...okay”.

She gestured to the truck and he made his way quickly to the passenger side. The doors creaked loudly as they opened them and the cabin shook with their shifting weight. She started the truck with a loud, dirty sounding rumble and the radio crackled to life. She looked to Bog before putting it in drive. His eyes were straight ahead, posture rigid. He was quite uncomfortable by the look of him. Her heart did a sad dip...

“Well, uh, thank you for earlier,” She said quietly, “Not many people stick up for the ‘Cooky Clay county Sheriff;”.

“Damn...” He cursed, his voice a low, raspy growl, “You heard that?”

“It’s nothing new for me...” She shrugged it off and pulled the truck out of the drive.

She could feel his eyes on her, “...doesn’t make it right.”

Her heart seemed to do a flip, “So, uh... About those autopsies?”

“Hm,” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and started tapping the screen, “I’ll send the report to your phone...”

“No!”

He stopped, “Why?”

“Just... Security...” Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, “Just give me the gist.”

“Alright,” He tucked the phone away, “ Lieutenant Burke was found to have died of asphyxiation by way of a crushed larynx. He was shot in the head post-mortem.”

“Jeez, why would they shoot him?”

“No idea, a cover up of something, maybe? Could try to frame someone...”

“What did the ballistics say, though?” She asked, looking over at him. He had his knobby elbow perched on the window sill, his scraggly face being supported by a large, open palm as he gazed at the town.

“It was a typical 9mm, same issue as they give the MPs...”

“Same issue as we give the deputies too, I suspect”.

“That being the case, ballistics might be a dead lead unless we can miraculously procure the offending weapon,” He sighed.

“Fair enough,” She echoed his sigh then motioned to the seat between them, “You’ll find the reports for both of the girls inside the center seat console”.

He grunted and started pulling up the middle seat, “For someone so concerned over security, not a very good idea stashing important items in this old rust bucket”.

“I’ll have you know this ‘old rust bucket’ has seen more roads than a 30-year veteran trucker”.

He didn’t answer, only opened the files he had pulled out, “Overdose!?”

“Yeah, the PCP. If it’s the same that’s been popping up, it’s pretty potent. Probably only took a gram”.

He stayed quiet for a long stretch as she pulled into the cafe parking lot, but she could hear him flipping through the pages quickly.

“It’s not the same formula, then.”

She parked and looked at him, he was glaring at the file, “We don’t even have the drug reports yet”.

“I remember... Plum’s formula was mild. A solid trip, but I can’t even imagine how much it might take to OD on it,” He flipped another page, “I’m thinking you’re right, but... I’m also thinking we have a bigger issue”.

“The long-term damage, you mean?” Her stomach churned recalling the details and suddenly she wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“These indicate an extensive history of sexual abuse... Scar tissue and fresh tears on the wrists, malnourished... Blood toxicity and brain tissue indicate that was not the first time they used PCP. Chronic use, even...”

“They were slaves...”

“It would seem so...” He closed the folder and placed it on the seat between them, “Tell me, does this town have a history of trafficking?”

Marianne bit her lip with a hard breath, “The Cartel has been an issue, like I said, but the feds have done well to squash the most dangerous practices... The town itself hasn’t seen a lot of activities, the occasional hooker here and there, drugs. Most of it comes through the reservation and state parks. Typically, that level of criminal steers clear from town... Especially near post, I would think...”

“You get soldiers from all over for training that are gone in a few months... Might just present the best clientele”.

“Geez...” She thought back to her prior failed attempts to work with the Army post and groaned at the thought of being drawn into a full-blown military investigation.

“Let’s go eat and talk, I’m starving,” He opened the door and swung his legs out.

“Yes, of course,” She picked up the files and hurried after him, almost jogging to catch up to his long strides.

He stopped short at the doors of the building and looked up skeptically, “Primrose Cafe?”

The sign was written in a flourished text, surrounded by etched flowers. 

Marianne chuckled and swung the door open, holding it for him to precede her, “You should really try the crepes, they are delightful.”

He snarled as he walked past her and into the small building filled with ruffles and the smell of fresh pastries.

“Marianne!” A tall woman sauntered up to the two of them, tossing a rag over her sturdy shoulder, “Ain’t seen you in these parts in a while.”

“Well, been pretty busy,” Marianne smiled up at her.

“Yes, I’ve heard about the murders, “ She shifted her gaze to Bog with a smirk, “And this must be Special Agent Bogue of the Royal Army...”

Bog looked to Marianne, perplexed. 

“Oh, beggin’ my pardon,” She shifted and stuck out her hand to shake, Bog did so with some hesitation, “ Name’s Lynn Wright. You darlings want a table?”

“Please,” Marianne nodded and Lynn grabbed a few menus and led them into the dining area. She put them in a booth at the corner, tossing the menus in front of them.

“Coffee?” She set her fists on her hips and looked between the two as they nodded, “Alright, I’ll be by with some biscuits, you two figure what you wanna eat...”

As she walked off, picking up some spent dishes as she went, Bog raised a brow at Marianne.

“Lynn is a friend,” She chuckled softly, “She is also a stellar informant. Given the location of this cafe, she gets everything from tribal members to truckers. And soldiers are here regularly, she says she’s become a bit of a legend for them...”

“What do you mean?”

“She came here years ago, when the post first opened. She was married to a soldier, but when he died, she stayed,” Marianne shook her head, “She just one day said she’d open up a cafe. Everyone thought she was joking. I mean, she was a hired farm hand for years and then... Poof! She’s making pastries”.

“To each their own, I suppose,” Bog shrugged, “But this gives her a lot of clout with the various citizens?”

“ Evidently. She has provided me with many leads in the past,” Marianne nodded, “Hopefully she knows a thing or two about the Love Potion”.

A platter filled with biscuits was set down hard in front of them, “Girl, I know you did not just say Love Potion...”

They looked up at Lynn, whose mouth was set in a firm, disturbed line, her green eyes sharp with inquiry.

“You got some info? We have a case reeking of the drug...” Marianne scooted aside and patted her seat. Lynn sighed and set her coffee pot down as she took a seat.

She started pouring the piping liquid into their cups, “It’s the trade drug right now”.

“Trade?” Bog asked. Lynn looked up at him skeptically before continuing.

“Sex workers, strippers mostly... For sure the lot lizards. Seen a few truckers come in having been dusted. They had that... Shimmer about them,” She shrugged.

“Any idea on the supplier, Lynn?” Marianne inquired.

“The usual dealers, some new small-timers, too... But the source is a bit harder to pin down,” Lynn rested her head on a hand thoughtfully, “This ain’t an import, though. Them border-jumping drugs make a lot more noise coming into town”.

“Do you think it’s being produced in the county?”

“Almost definitely. I can’t tell if it’s coming from the hills or the rez, though...” She looked between the two of them, sitting up straighter, “C’mon, now, you still need to eat. I won’t have you wastin’ some perfectly good food just sitting here listenin’”.

Marianne snorted, but obligingly grabbed a biscuit and broke it open, grabbing a pallet of preserve to spread on it. She looked to Bog and nodded, encouraging him to do the same. He picked one off the platter and then stopped.

“Why are you so wary of the Love Potion?” He asked, looking to Lynn, “You seem to know a lot about the local drug market. Why is this one different?”

Lynn blinked for a moment as Marianne looked on in wide-eyed interest.

“Well, I like you...” Lynn smirked, “It’s in the schools. My daughter’s middle school more precisely. And I’ve seen one of the trips before, girl was as limp and pliable as a cooked noodle. Person could take advantage of that...”

Bog and Marianne shared a knowing look.

“It’s addictive, too. Once you’ve had it, you never wanna quit,” Lynn scratched behind her ear with a far-off look, “A drug like that... Could really destroy a place”.

She stood suddenly and whipped out her writing pad, “So what the hell are you guys getting anyway?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

 

Bogue watched Marianne carefully as she drove towards the reservation. He fingers were tapping quickly against the wheel, completely akimbo to the rhythm of the slow crooning country song playing on the radio. She looked uncomfortable, he dare might say even worried.

He wondered if it had anything to do with the name Lynn had slipped her on a strip of paper from her pad. At the time, she held Marianne’s hand firmly and tucked the folded paper into her palm with a strong and determined look.

“Don’t let me down, sheriff,” Lynn nearly pleaded before bidding them farewell.

Maybe that was it, though, the pressure and expectation... No, that was ridiculous. Marianne was already invested in this case to the point that she would be the most disappointed at her failure. She already had the world on her shoulders and dealt with it intently.

It was a good ten minutes until she finally broke whatever chain of thought that bound her so tightly.

“Okay, so...’ She switched off the radio and then ran the hand through her hair, “We’re going to a strip club”.

“Okay...” He responded warily.

“I need to talk to the manager, but...” She sighed, “He may have shot one of my deputies six months back”.

“May have? Why is he still free?”

“Two things: We’re not suppose to be on the reservation in the first place. And this particular deputy broke in without a warrant”.

“What happened to the deputy?” Bogue crossed his arms, displeased at this unsavory development.

“Administrative leave... But then they and two others resigned when I refused to pursue charges against the manager,” She turned slightly, shielding her face from his sight, “They went and joined the Highway Patrol.... Regardless, it put a bad taste in the manager’s mouth, a member of my department having slighted him like that. He doesn’t trust me”.

“Would you like me to take the lead on this one?” He offered.

She smiled, “You may need to. I’m pretty sure he’ll just call the tribal police to escort me away”.

“What do you think this guy can give us for the case?”

“Access mostly, maybe info on the origins of the drug... If I can get names of some of the strippers, I’ll be happy, though”.

“That’s it? Why not just wait in the parking lot till a shift change?” 

She shook her head and began tapping her hand on the steering wheel again, “I don’t want to get shot”.

She was biting her lip now.

“Is it really that bad over here?” He asked.

“You are in the West now,” She shrugged, he could not tell to what extent she might be joking, “We need to make ourselves known first thing and do this on his terms or it won’t work...”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. By her body language, it didn’t seem as if Marianne much enjoyed it either.

As they pulled into the dirt drive of the windowless building, they did not get much more time to think out their tactic.

Waiting in front of the door to the club was a broad man holding a shotgun in both hands across his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.....” Marianne seethed as she put the truck in park and thumped her forehead against the steering wheel. She kept it there for a moment and then sat up again with a deep breath.

“Someone gave him a heads-up,” She concluded, unbuckling and opening the door, “let’s go say hello!”

She swung out of the vehicle and squared her shoulders, marching forward confidently. 

For someone having been so concerned over being shot, she sure was quick to approach a large man visibly armed with a mid-range weapon. Bogue quelled his compulsion to gawk at her powerful stride and gave himself a pat down, ensuring the security of his sidearm against his waist.

“Jerry, what the hell are you doing?” Marianne demanded loudly as Bogue stepped out onto the sun-baked gravel.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sheriff,” the man shifted the gun in his hands, his fingers curled just behind the trigger housing, “Or should I address you by your proper title, Princess?”

“Cut the shit, Jerry, I’m not here to get into this...” She crossed her arms, glaring up at the man.

“Then you’re here trespassing,” He started to raise his weapon and Bogue reached for his own, stopping a couple of yard from the two of them. Jerry’s dark eyes flitted to him and he froze before raising his weapon and pointing it at Bogue, who whipped his handgun up accordingly. 

“I see you’re picking your dogs much taller these days,” Jerry grumbled, eyes set across his sight and to Bogue, barrel to barrel, “That’s fine by me. Bigger target”.

“Oh this one ain’t mine,” She sounded relatively calm for being on the sidelines of a standoff, “No, he’s federal... Foreign, too. Just imagine the impact, shooting him unprovoked, right in broad daylight...”

His eyebrows went up and his grip loosened, the barrel sinking slightly, “you’re still trespassing”.

“All we want is some information,” She said calmly, “Give us that and you won’t go in the state pen for threatening a federal officer”.

For a few moments, it was silent save for a few ragged breaths and the muffled beating of some lively song from within the building. Bog’s finger hovered over the trigger as he and Jerry continued to stare each other down. He could see in his eyes that the man was mulling all the information over in his mind, though.

“There’s this drug...” Marianne continued with a sigh, “ Love Potion... Word has it some of your performers are users. I seem to recall a similar drug making its way into your business a few years back”.

The man’s eyes narrowed and then switched to Marianne, the barrel of his gun dropping to the ground.

“That stuff nearly ruined me!” He boomed, “I can’t have my dancers hooked on anything-”

“Then perhaps it would be best if you helped us help you,” Marianne stepped up to him and held out her hands for the gun, “We help you clean house, you help us find out who’s peddling into the county”.

He regarded her for a long moment, his face fallen in defeat, before he shoved the weapon into her ready hands. Bogue let out a breath and holstered his pistol.

“Thanks Jerry, you’re making the right decision...”

Bogue went to join them, but stopped steps away when he saw Marianne heft the shotgun up.

In two quick steps, she was directly in front of Jerry, swinging the weapon back. The next beat, she had driven the butt of the shotgun into the man’s gut with a meaty thunk.

“Augh!” He doubled over, holding himself around the middle as Marianne set the gun up against the wall and wiped her hands.

Bogue could only stare, wide-eyed and frozen in surprise as she stooped beside the man, one hand on his shoulder.

“If you EVER point a gun at one of my people again,” She seethed through clenched teeth, “I promise you, I will be the one to pull the trigger first. And you better damn well believe I will not miss...”

She stood straight again with a pat on the man’s back and walked to the entrance, “Now would you be so kind as to offer this princess some water? I am parched”.

As she disappeared into the establishment, Bogue finally switched his focus back to Jerry. He was trying to right himself, a hand on his hip and a grimace on his face.

“She’s crazy...” The large man coughed and then gestured to Bogue, “Y’really drew the short straw, ending up with that one.”

With that, the man hobbled in. Bogue stayed back a few paces, trying to get his incredibly inappropriate smile under control.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one and involves drugs, strippers, and a homicide scene also involving sex trafficking and rape.
> 
> This is not as bad as this story will get, you are simply beginning the long descent into dark bad stuff padded with butterfly bog development.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, there's cursing. Dang potty-mouthed characters...

“I had that, you know,” she spoke around the straw in her mouth, “I can take care of myself”.

Bogue blinked at the small woman in the bar stool beside him, his eyes still adjusting to the suddenly dim lighting.

He tried to conceal his mirth, “Yes, I can tell”.

She spun towards him, locking sincere amber eyes to his. “I know these people. I know their lines and how they react when you cross them. I know how to walk that line”.

“You make it sound like the people are the law and not you”.

She cocked her head slightly with a blink and then scoffed, turning back towards the bar and shrugging, “Well, their tax dollars do pay my salary and pension”.

She rubbed the back of her neck as she took another sip of her ice water. Thin fingers to her delicate nape, it was hard to reconcile her actions and attitude to her… well, beauty, Bogue had to admit. It was intriguing, though a slightly distressing highlight to some internally harbored prejudices of his own. He couldn’t help but to yearn to examine that disparity even closer.

“Boss said you wanted to talk?”

The sultry voice made them both turn, but Bogue was the only one to jerk back with a start. Before them stood a buxom bleach-blonde wearing naught but a thong, curves and breasts bared proudly to the open air. She perched a hand on one jutted hip as she regarded them with impatience.

Bogue swallowed and trained his eyes to just over her head, thinking he really should have seen this coming.

“Mal. Of course he’d send you,” Marianne stood, though it didn’t make much difference.

“Nice to see you too, Marianne,” The girl called Mal replied snidely, “Now what tall vision are you dragging along for your shenanigans today?”

“This is Special Agent Bog, we are on the same case,”Marianne said shortly.

“Well, Mr. Bog, I’d shake your hand, but… I doubt you’d know where to put yours”

He felt his face heat up at her inappropriate implications.

“You can play with him later, Mal, we’re here for a reason”.

“Shame… but my time is money anyhow, so get to it”.

“We need to know about the Love Potion”.

There was a pregnant pause and then a defeated sigh, “I need a deal”.

“You know this isn’t my jurisdiction…” 

“Yes, but this could be considered a federal case and reported. I’m not falling for those tricks”.

“Fine then. Immunity as far as dealing small, but anything bigger and I’ll have to put the call in”.

“No need then,” Mal hummed, “follow me”.

Bogue despaired for a moment the fact that her would have to follow the nude woman, but the knowing smirk from Marianne pushed him to perform that duty with a rightful sneer. He looked to the woman as she walked with her back to them. This view was no less embarrassing and he was sure the sway in her hips was deliberate.

“Focus, Bog,” Marianne murmured as she swept past him, following Mal with an equally deliberate stride, hers stiff and determined.

“I am!” He whispered defensively as he stomped after her, his eyes now fixed on the Sheriff.

They made their way to the back room, which bustled with the activity of girls preparing for their shows. Mal snapped her fingers and waved her hands and the women scurried out promptly. She motioned to a couch with a nod and Marianne sat. Bogue momentarily contemplated the fact that so many nude ladies had probably been sitting there before obligingly sitting beside her.

Mal sighed as she grabbed a silk robe from a hook and slipped it on. She tied it loosely as she eyed them down and perched herself against the vanity table across from them.

“My girls are using,” She nodded, hitching a leg up on a stool, “I’m not stopping them”.

“And why is that?” Marianne crossed her arms, “From what I hear, this is pretty strong stuff”.

“If you use it like anything else, sure, it’s potent, but,” She shrugged, “Just a puff to the face-” she blew into her hand, “-and these girls are at the top of their game. Limber, languid, and enthusiastic. You wouldn’t be able to tell who was enjoying the performance more, the girls or the simpletons slobbering over them”.

“So, you encourage this?” Bogue asked.

Mal smiled wickedly at him before reaching down between her legs and opening a drawer. She withdrew a large roll of cash and tossed it to them. Bogue snatched it out of the air and examined it. Marianne let out an impressed whistle when he snapped off the rubber band and unrolled it, revealing a stack of bills.

“You will note, not all ones,” Mal beamed, “And that is just the graveyard shift of one girl”.

“Damn,” Bogue flipped through the money as Marianne leaned closer.

“You tell me that is not worth the thirty bucks a bag for Love Potion,” Mal grinned smugly.

“You sure you want to get those thong dollars all over your fingers?” Marianne whispered, making Bogue stop abruptly and set the money down gently on the coffee table in front of them.

“A turn-around like that, you must be a frequent customer,” Marianne pointed out.

Mal stood and bent over to collect the bills, her robe falling open in the process, “I expect you’ll want me to finger the dealer so you can finger the maker”.

“Ideally, that would come,” Marianne nodded, standing as Mal stood straight once more, “But as of this moment, I am much more interested in the clientele tied to a series of murders in my county”.

She froze and blinked between the two of them, shock barely concealed beneath a tight lip. She plopped the money down on the counter and started fumbling with her hair, twisting it as she thought.

“This isn’t even about the drugs?” She turned from them, opening a drawer.

“This is about protecting the people of my county,” Marianne crossed her arms.

“Was-...” She paused and straightened, haunted eyes reflecting in the mirror in front of her, “Who are the victims, exactly?”

“Young women, mostly,” Marianne stated and Mal’s eyes shut with a hard breath, “Though, there was an Officer from the Royal Army that fell victim as well”.

“Oh God…” Mal’s hands slammed down on the counter, “Any… Navajo, perhaps?”

“So far, no…” Marianne stepped forward as Mal let out a relieved sigh, “Why?”

“One of our girls…” Mal turned, flipping her hair over a shoulder, “She’s been missing for a week now. Doli Nakai”.

“Nakai? Aren’t they…”

“A Mexican clan, yes,” She nodded, “Which is why it’s been impossible to get the tribal police to do anything effective. Half the family is off the rez”.

“Why didn’t you come to me? File a report?”

Her eyes narrowed in consternation, absorbing the question, “You already got one”.

“What?” Marianne stiffened.

“One of your guys came by, I figured the tribal police called him in. Said he got the missing person’s report from the family and questioned me”.

“Who was it?” She demanded.

“One of the Daymond brothers… Jimmy, I think. Boss was shitting, he looked so much like the one her shot,” Mal chuckled, but one look in Mariannes direction told Bogue that she held no humor towards the situation.

She fumed, her fists tight and shoulders rigid. Even Mal was taken aback when she noticed the woman’s composure. She looked about ready to burst.

“Uh…” Bogue stood, taking the lead, “Can you get us the details for your dealer, so we can talk to him?”

“Um, sure,” She blinked between the two of them and then hurried out of the room.

“As soon as she left, Marianne moved, She went to the drawers, yanking each open roughly until she found whatever it was she needed. With hasty, shaking hands, she plucked out a card and a small baggie and stuffed them in her pockets before slamming the drawer shut and whipping around, facing Bogue.

“What?” He asked, though he was not entirely sure why. He was equally as baffled by her disposition at hearing who had questioned Mal as by by her subsequent actions.

“Let’s go,” Marianne ordered and swept past him to the door. Mal was just on the other side, paper in hand, eyes wide and a very impatient manager just behind her.

Marianne pushed through the doorway.

“Wait, I have your…” Mal called after her, but she charged forward, unhearing, for the front door.

Bogue snatched the paper from the woman’s hand and murmured his thanks, jogging through the dark, loud room to catch up with his partner for the day. He got to her side just as she reached the door.

“What was that all abou- Augh!” He stopped when she opened the door to the brutally bright sun. He squinted painfully before shading his brow with both hands.

“Mid-day desert’s a bitch, huh?” Was all she said before storming to her truck.

Bogue fumbled aggravatedly after her, whatever patience he had afforded her burning up in the unforgiving furnace.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” He demanded as he climbed into the oven-like truck and slammed the door behind him, “And what did you take?”

She reached in her pocket and procured the card and bag, “The proper contact for her dealer, since I suspect the paper she gave you is for pizza or some shit and a bag of the probably cause with which I obtained the card. I saw her fumbling with it as we spoke…”

“And the deputy who I’m guessing never filed the missing person’s report?”

“He’s not one of my guys anymore,” Her lip curled in disgust as she seethed, “He’s Roland’s”.

“Who?”

She slammed a fist into her steering wheel with a short yet loud profanity.

“Why is he always three steps ahead of me!?” She demanded of an unseen force, face turned upward. Before Bogue could get past his shock to further address her, a cell phone started to ring.

With a sigh, Marianne reached to her belt and unlatched her phone from its case.

“Sheriff Fairman,” She answered evenly.

Bogue blinked at her and then tugged at his shirt, finding it already soggy from sweat. He sincerely wished she had started the car earlier.

“Where?” She asked tersely, “Okay… I’ll be there in ten”.

With that. she hung up the phone and started the truck, a new sort of disturbance distorting her face. As they pulled out of the drive, Bogue wondered why he could not find it in him to grill her on the situation.

Her eyes flickered in his direction as if suddenly recalling his presence. She cleared her throat.

“Looks like we got another body”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn’t the first murder at the motel and it almost certainly would not be the last. The place was a pit stop along the interstate and veritable hotbed for criminal activity. No security cameras, rows of dark rooms, tight back alleyway leading into the railyard, free ice.

The moment they pulled up to the place, Marianne reached under her seat and pulled out her badge and gun. She jumped from the truck and made her way to the police cars and tape blocking the pathway between two rows of rooms, motioning Bog to follow with two fingers. She found it an odd comfort to hear his door close and his footsteps covering her own. He said nothing, but his lengthy stride brought him to her side in seconds as they both surveyed the scene.

She was still pretty pissed after hearing that one of Roland’s henchmen was fouling up what should have been a proper investigation, but it was a relief to see her deputies had been thorough at their scene. The motel manager talking to them looked properly perturbed by the inconvenience.

“Shelby,” Marianne addressed her deputy as they walked up on her giving instructions to some of the city PD officers. The deputy turned to face them, relief on her face.

“Boss,” she sighed, “Sure glad to see you. Detectives got here first, but I managed to hold em off from moving anything”.

“Good job,”Marianne patted the taller woman’s shoulder and went toward the tape line, “I appreciate it. I expect the keep wants us out as soon as possible?”

Deputy Shelby merely rolled her eyes and shook her head while Marianne smiled and nodded to Bog to follow. Not that she really had to, he seemed to be sticking beside her without a single question. For a moment, Marianne thanked the universe for what little reliability she was allotted this day.

It was not hard to tell which room the body was in, since the door was wide open and crawling with authorities. They all parted as they neared, filing out of the room until the last two were left. Their dress clothes and loose demeanor made them stick out as detectives. They both stopped, blocking the door, one crossing his arms.

“Marianne, looking good. This your day off?” He asked as his eyes traveled down her figure, taking in her casual wear.

“Go fuck yourself, Reggie,” She put emphasis on using his first name as he had, “Let me in”.

“The mouth on this one,” the other detective laughed as the two shared a look.

“Say please”.

“Please go fuck yourself. Move!”

“Oh you can do better-”

The next moment, Bog was in front of her, ducking down to address the shorter men as he rested a hand on the doorframe behind them.

“You got your please. Now let Sheriff Fairman do her job.”

Their eyes went wide for a moment as they scrambling to get from beneath his imposing shadow. Marianne smiled at Bog as she walked easily beneath his arm. He smiled back.

“Who’s the Scot, Sheriff?” Reggie asked, “You hire yourself some muscle?”

“I can muscle through alone just fine, thanks,” She called back, but then stopped, taking in the lay of the scene.

The room was in shambles, dresser toppled, mirror shattered. The carpet was stained in blood and,she suspected, puke. The body was on the bed, sheet strung around it in a drastic dishevel.

It was a man, half undressed, shirt unbuttoned and splayed around his prominent, bloody gut, which was sporting at least three bullet wounds. From the amount of blood pooled around him, she suspected he died of sepsis before getting the chance to bleed out. By the smell of the room, she figured it had not been too long ago.

“Who called it in?” Marianne called out.

"The Manager," Reggie answered, "Says he called as soon as he heard the shots. Your girl up there found the guy..."

"Hm. So he hasn't been here long. Got an ID yet?"

"Trucker by the name of Robert Farley. According to his company, he dropped his load last night..."

"And then came here and dropped another," The other one laughed.

Marianne rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the scene. The victim's belt was undone, zipper down, exposing him.

"So, a John comes in here and ends up getting shot. Prostitute?"

"We have her blood and some lipstick marks around his mouth, scratch marks on his chest and arms".

"Weapon?"

"Dumped in the trash".

"The dumpster in the back?" Marianne asked.

"No, check the can".

Marianne leaned over toward the desk, careful to not bump anything. The small trash can had a small pistol thrown in it haphazardly.

"This was obviously spontaneous..." Marianne sighed. Not that she expected anything else from a crime of this caliber. She looked to the doorway where Bog was still leaning, an expectant look on his face. 

"Hey, Bog," She waved her hand for him to come over. He blinked, looking shocked and confused, before stepping cautiously into the room.

"Is this okay? Me in here?" He looked her sincerely in the eye, as if asking permission.

"Yeah, might be related to our case," she nodded, "besides, I could use some experienced eyes”.

He stopped beside her, eyes sweeping over his new vantage point, “And what makes you think I have more homicide experience than you?”

“Well, for starters, you were sent all the way out here for a homicide investigation, that should be enough,” She chuckled, “But honestly, you looked like you were waiting for me to say something you already know. So… tell me what you see”.

He shook his head with a guffaw and scanned the room a moment longer. With a curious grunt he stepped behind her and bent to the side, looking towards the restroom. Cautiously, he stepped over evidence markers, glass, and blood and made his way to it. Careful not to touch anything else, he pushed the door open wider with his knuckle and stuck his head in.

“Alright,” He said a few moments later, making his way back to her side, “Victim is no doubt a John, the nature of this hire is a tad more suspect. The room suggests a great struggle, likely lasting quite a while, the girl sustaining a lot of damage. The sex worker was outmatched entirely, relying on nails and teeth. The John completed his act, even having time to clean up in the bathroom. He left her on the bed, tied to the headboard, her mouth bleeding onto the pillow. She managed to get out of the restraints, he came back for seconds and I suspect that she pulled the gun from his belt and shot him until he collapsed on top of her, leaving slugs-” He pointed at the ceiling slightly behind them several indents evident, “-embedded in the ceiling. The streaks on the sheet indicate it took some time for her to flip him over. She shed her shirt and restaining ropes in the bathroom, cleaned up some blood and dumped the gun in the trash. She was in a hurry, scared, but with absolutely no regard for the evidence left behind. Question is, why was she so scared and who was she running from?"

"Logic says she's running from the implications of having committed a murder," Marianne offered.

"The foregone conclusion in most cases, but look at the nature of our scene," He crossed his arms, "It was a struggle from the start, almost led me to believe this was a simple rape case. And I suppose it could be. But he's a trucker, if he was looking for a victim, why not use his truck? It's easier to get away. Not to mention discreet".

"And a Lot Lizard won't leave the lot, too many potential customers coming and going. They will work fast and frequent", Marianne offered.

"Lot Lizard?" Bog raised a brow.

"Prostitutes specializing in truckers and truck stops," she shrugged.

"Hm, so this scene is special, with markings of both a sell and a rape. She was special, she needed a cage or she was dropped off..."

"If she was here against her will, they wouldn't just leave her with a customer. There would be someone watching or waiting".

They shared a look of epiphany before hurrying out of the room.

"What? You guys done flirting?" One of the detectives laughed as they pushed last them.

"Have you cleared all these rooms?" Marianne asked, gesturing around her to the two rows of doors facing them on either side.

"Yes, all guests were evacuated," Reggie explained, "though most of them fled after the gunshot".

"Were the rooms searched?" Bog asked, his eyes on the pavement going down the line.

"Not without a warrant!” The hotel manager shouted, hurrying over, “I know my rights”.

“Of course you do,” Marianne sighed, turning to the scruff man, “Would it not be in your best interest to make sure there are no murderers in your establishment?”

“Everybody is cleared out of these rooms. If a murderer was in one, they’re gone now, Princess,” He seethed, the detectives laughed, Marianne cringed, “You better start tracking”.

“Guest list?” Marianne practically begged.

“Warrant.” He answered resolutely and walked away.

“Damnit,” Marianne crossed her arms and spun around to face Bog.

But Bog was faced away from her, focussing on a point down the line of the building. He glanced back at her, perhaps sensing her eyes on him and then gestured for her to come to him. 

“What’s wrong?” Marianne asked quietly.

“Blood, trails to Room 211, take a look at the curtain,” He all but whispered back. 

Marianne looked down the line till she got to the door marked 211, from there she looked to the dingy window and the curtain on the other side. It swayed at a slowing pace, as if it had been pulled open a moment before.

“Did you see?” She asked.

“A hand, small, female most likely”.

“We need in room 211!” She called after the manager, “Agent Bog saw a-”

“Warrant, Princess!”

“Oh and here come’s the coroner,” Reggie chuckled as he walked past with his partner, “Hope you got all you needed. Them’s breaks, princess…”

Marianne clenched her fist and swung around to face the man, ready to pour out all of her frustrations on the jackass. A large hand curled over her shoulder, though, stilling her.

“What?” She rounded back around to face Bog, his face was stoic.

“Just let it go for now,” He told her. It sounded an awful lot like ‘calm down’ for Marianne’s liking. She jerked away from his touch.

“Whatever,” she snarled, “let’s just go get a warrant…”

As she passed her deputy, she leaned over and instructed her to stay with the scene until she returned. Her deputy agreed, apprehensive towards her her boss’s change of demeanor. Maybe she was starting to see the crazy hotheadedness in her that the entire county was convinced existed.

Maybe they were all right about it. All Marianne knew was that she felt alone again. She reprimanded herself for ever feeling otherwise.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marianne called the station as she drove to confirm what she already somehow knew: the county judge was dining at Primrose Cafe.

The ride was tense and quiet. Bogue used the empty moments to ruminate on the situation. He had so many questions for Marianne. Who was Roland and how was he tied in? Why had she not shared that information with anyone but him? Why did everyone treat her so poorly if she was the sheriff? Did he do something wrong in stopping her from further engaging with the detectives? And most puzzling of all…

“Why do they all call you Princess?” He couldn’t help but blurt out.

Marianne glared from the corner of her eye as she drove, “Really? That’s the question you’re leading with?”

“What should I be asking?” He shifted in his seat.

“Geez, anything!” She threw a hand up, “What the hell is going on? Why is everything an uphill battle with me? Why am I such a piece of shit Sheriff?”

“I don’t think that,” He interjected, watching her fist loosen on the steering wheel, “I think you’re just surrounded by assholes”.

She let out a breath,her furrowed brow softening, “Well, maybe that's just because you haven’t had the privilege of seeing me from their point of view yet”.

“Maybe I don’t want to, maybe their point of view is skewed…”

There was a long pause as she stopped at a light and then, “They call me Princess because my father is the Mayor in town. I’m spoiled to them, I think some even believe he got me my position as Sheriff, but… No, that was a whole other mess…”

“They don’t just treat you like you’re spoiled though, they act as if you’re unstable, crazy…”

“Maybe I am…”

“I don’t think that’s it… I think you’re just determined, passionate. They can’t handle that because you’re different”.

“Ha! That’s one way to put it..” She rubbed behind her neck.

“That’s what I like,” He said it quietly, but so suddenly that he startled himself before it seemed to register on her face. Her eyes went wide with a few rapid blinks in his direction before she turned into the parking lot for the cafe.

“Listen, Bog…” She started as she parked the truck and turned slightly to him, “There is a reason I am deemed crazy. That deputy that I said was related to the first murder, he’s the one I believe to be interfering in our investigation now, his name is Roland Greeley…. and, well…”

She paused again, a pained expression on her face as if she expected her next words to destroy her. He swallowed, not sure what to expect.

“He was my fiance, a bit over a year ago. He was running for sheriff and… when I found out about his involvement I broke it off and ran against him for Sheriff.” She looked away from him, “He got out of everything by saying he had slighted me romantically. He lost the election, but I’ve been the crazy Sheriff ever since…”

“I…” He started, but couldn’t complete a coherent thought, the facts scrambled around in his brain.

“Now you take into consideration the odds of every scrap of evidence disappearing and the proximity of myself to the well-liked suspect with a dozen alibis…. You can decide for yourself, am I crazy?”

“Do… you think you’re crazy?”

“Sometimes I wonder, but…” She shook her head, unbuckling, “My heart and head always tell me to keep pushing, keep pursuing…”

“Then I’ll trust you,” he insisted with the soft sincerity he once believed to be lost. She looked him in the eye, trepid surprise melting into a disparity of soft warmth and futile doubt.

“We’ll see”.

Nonetheless, she left the truck with a confident stride, her sulk melting away with each step. Bogue followed her into the cafe and then went straight for one of the tables with a small wave to Lynn. The man sitting there alone looked up as the two approached. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, eyes piercing, demeanor detached. He glared as Marianne sat across from him.

“No,” He said before Marianne could say anything, “I am at lunch, Sheriff…”

“This can’t wait, we got a possible perp hiding out near a scene, a homicide. This perp may also be a witness to a trafficking ring in the county-”

“Oh come now, Marianne, you know all the real trafficking is run south of the border,” The judge wiped his mouth with a napkin and then threw it down on the tabletop. Bogue eyed the man, standing dutifully behind Marianne’s chair.

“I believe the alley murders are all tied into a ring in the county, this witness may clue us in”.

“The murders near the Hayworth ranch?” He rested both elbows on the table with a thud and clasped his hands together, “Don’t tell me you’re on about Roland again. Damnit woman, you already got him kicked off the department-”

“He quit! And this has nothing to do with-”

“Forget it, get me some real evidence… I can't compromise my job by entertaining your crazy compulsions”. 

“People are dying!” Marianne stood, slamming a fist into the table, knocking a water glass over, “Don’t you people give a shit about that? Or is the gossip in this town just more valuable than human life!?”

Bogue didn’t flinch at this outburst, but inwardly cringed as the judge’s face turned from shock to a patronizing sneer. He stood as Lynn came rushing over to clean up the mess.

“I would watch your little temper tantrums, Sheriff, they can get you in some serious trouble” He gestured to the door, “ Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meal to finish”.

Bogue’s hand hovered over Marianne’s shoulder, but he could sense the tension in her without so much as a touch. She let out a ragged breath and then made a beeline for the door.

The judge sat down, satisfied at her departure. Lynn looked up at Bogue with a strained look, nodding towards the door.

“Yes, go fetch your Sheriff up, Special Agent,” The judge chuckled, “Who knows what she’s up to now that she didn’t get her way…”

“How did you know…” Bogue started.

“Not a thing goes unnoticed in this town, you’ll find,” He remarked, returning to his meal, “Least of all a foreign official teaming up with our insane Sheriff”.

Bogue considered his words for a moment, the implications and insight into the area. He also contemplated punching the guy. An idea struck him amidst his reasoning and good sense, though, and he simply nodded and left.

“You’d do well to dissolve this working relationship, Agent, she’ll lead you far from progress”, the man called after.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” Bogue called back over his shoulder and left the cafe to the sound of pretentious laughter.

When he got outside, Marianne was punching her truck with a scream.

“Woah woah woah,” Bogue hurried over, hands up, she stopped, breathing heavily, “Don’t give him the satisfaction of looking out that window and seeing you react”.

She growled, pushing away from her truck and turning away from the cafe, she began a march, going straight for the desert resolutely, shoulders tight and tense.

“Where are you going?” He hurried after her.

“Firstly,” She started with a crack of her neck, “I’m going to find something to hit an acceptable distance away…”

Bogue couldn’t help but chuckle at that, even as she led him into the rocky, prickly brush area.

“Next, I’m gonna get back in my truck, drive to the motel and bust down the damn door-”

Bogue sighed, stepping in front of her to make her stop. She glared up at him.

“Listen,” He started, his hands out, “You can’t just break the law to get what you need. The evidence will be inadmissible. I understand you’re frustrated-”

“No you don’t!” She yelled, looking down and then took a shaky breath, “You don’t know what it’s like to be the title denied the power it’s suppose to yield. You don’t know what it’s like knowing the terrible truth for a year and NOBODY believing you, everybody doubting you. STILL wanting to protect those people that look at you with such contempt! I need the truth, I need the bad guys behind bars, even if it ruins me! Not for my fucking ego, but so the people can be safe! You don’t know what it’s like fighting so damn hard for so damn long…”

“Marianne, I believe you!” He grabbed her shoulders suddenly, bending over to look her in the eye, “ I believe you. I just want to help you”.

She looked up into his eyes, hers wide and welled with moisture.

“I want to help… but I can’t if it’s not done in a way we can use,” He shook his head, “Breaking into a motel… I can be pulled from the case for that alone”.

She blinked as if coming to the same realization and shook her head, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he let his hand drift down to her arms with a relieved smile, “Just… I think I have a better idea”. 

“Oh yeah?” Marianne raised a brow skeptically.

“Well, we could always scope the place out, though I doubt she’ll leave in the daytime,” He shrugged, “But I noticed something when we were there. Those rooms have paper-thin walls…”

“So… what? You wanna get a room and listen in?” She chuckled.

He shrugged, “It’s worth a shot. We get a room on the other side of the building, listen in and nab her when she leaves… or get the bastards leashing her when they come back”.

“Pfft, that could take all night,” She smirked.

He shrugged again standing straight. 

“Can I punch you?” She asked, hands on her hips and head tilted to the side.

“If you must,” Bogue laughed. She smiled and balled a fist, landing a stiff blow to his chest in one quick movement. He stumbled back, only slightly surprised by the strength behind it.

“Okay, let’s do this,” She conceded, turning and walking back towards her truck. Bogue watched her go with a smile, a warmth filling his chest at the thought that he could be of some help to her.

And then it struck him. He would be spending a long night alone with her in a seedy motel room. His gaze drifted over her figure as it walked further and further away.

“Oh no…” he sighed to himself, “what have I done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Marianne.... I'm so pissed off for her when I write all this.
> 
> Next chapter is a step into the underworld of the county as well as more of an exploration/reflection into Bog/Bogue's character.
> 
> Btw, if you haven't noticed, the most obvious marker of POV between our mains is that she still refers to him as Bog since he has failed to correct her, but he will refer to himself as Bogue. It's silly and small, but makes me smile.
> 
> Also, just to be clear, Mal is not named so as a shoddy attempt to foreshadow her being a bad guy, she's not... she just calls herself Mal because she fancies herself a bad(ass) bitch. And that might be true...
> 
> Thank you for reading, drop a review if you'd like. It's always appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied... I never know what my next chapter will entail. Not till I write it. I meant to, but..... well, enjoy. I sure enjoyed writing it, mwahahaha....
> 
>  
> 
> Also, warnings: Trafficking, guns, death, slavery, violence.... but also some nice happy warm feeling to get ya right!

The motel manager was pissed, but he couldn’t very well say no to them. After all, it was still money and much worse had gone on behind the closed doors of his establishment than two law enforcement officials doing undercover work.

Marianne had to empathize, however, with the fact that if they were to reveal their identity to the other guests, it could certainly affect his reputation and business. What criminal would want to stay at a place known to have facilitated the police in the seizure of another criminal. Or however those kind of people viewed it… She really wasn’t too worried about the manager’s feelings, however.

No, at that moment she had a couple of other people who were much more disappointed in her evening plans.

“I told you I’m sorry. Something came up for work, though, and it can’t wait,” Marianne rubbed her brow.

“That’s what you have deputies for,” Dawn argued on the other end of the phone, “You could have at least given me warning. Especially considering Dad found out about the party”.

“What? How?”

“How does anyone find out about anything around here?”

Marianne sighed, “grape vine… well, you made your bed…”

“Oh come on, not you too. You’re not the one that has to sit through a dinner-slash-lecture for hours with no buffer person… I mean, geez, I’m almost 18, graduating next week, I think I am entitled to make my own decisions, have a little fun-”

“Oh geez, sorry, I gotta go. Work”.

“Marianne, I know you’re just trying to-”

“Oh no, I think I’m losing you… Signal’s breaking up. Bad reception”.

“Marianne, I swear-!”

“Can’t hear you. Love you, bye!”

Marianne hung up the phone with a long exhale.

“Does that actually work?” Bog asked from his position at the back of the room. He was perched between the bathroom and the closet, setting up some equipment from a black bag.

“No, not really… but she lets me get away with it,” Marianne explained from her spot perched on the edge of the bed.

“Hm,” He looked pensive as he unwound some wires, “Doubt that would work on my mother. I could be swept away in a typhoon and that’d still be no excuse for me getting off the phone with ‘er”.

Marianne laughed, “I kinda like her already”.

“Well, that makes one of us, she drives me crazy,” He mumbled as he set up the tripod, “Woman won’t get off my back about settling down”.

“That’s family for ya,” Marianne smiled as she watched Bog finish leaning the listening device, a plastic cone and receptor, up against the wall.

They were in a room on the other side of the building where the crime scene was. More precisely, they were in the room sharing a back wall with room 211, where they believed their suspect to be. Because Marianne’s deputy had stayed there with her eye on things, the odds seemed pretty good that the room was still occupied. 

It was both Marianne’s and Bog’s belief that the girl would wait until it was as dark as possible to try and make her escape anyway. If she was as scared as they thought, she would probably put it off for as long as possible.

“Okay,” Bog rocked back on his heels and looked up to Marianne, motioning her over. She walked over and crouched down across from him and the elaborate set-up. The cone on the wall was held up by the tripod and attached to the wires which ran down into a box in the bag with two sets of headphones.

“This yours?” She asked with an impressed air.

“My line of work is rather generous with the equipment,” He explained, holding out a headset for her to take.

She hesitated and then retrieved it from his long, tapered fingers with a nod of appreciation, “Think it’s too late for me to switch careers and join the military? I want cool toys, too…”

“It wasn’t for me,” He shrugged, grabbing the second headset.

She raised a brow at him and ran her eyes over his features, wondering just how old he actually was. Somehow, she had not really thought of his age up to that point, but he was most certainly at least middle-aged. By the brow crease and depth of the crows feet, she was guessing mid-to-late 30s.

She shook her head, wondering why it mattered and then slipped on the headphones. Bog set to work on adjusting a few things until sound finally came through. There was an odd gurgling static loud in her ears. Bog hurried to shift the cone slightly to the left with a frown. He mouthed ‘water pipe’ to her before making a few more adjustments.

There was wheezing, slow but consistent in its wain and flow.

“There we go,” Bog muttered, satisfied.

“She’s sleeping,” Marianne stated, slipping the earphones down around her neck just as Bog was.

“Sounds a bit labored, but yes,” He agreed, “We may have a long night ahead of us yet”.

“Fantastic,” Marianne rolled her eyes, “Can’t we just pound on the wall and flush her out”.

“Unless she thinks we’re busting down this wall to get her, she’ll just be more reclusive in fear,” Bog shook his head.

“Augh, I know… I just don’t want to be stuck in this room,” She settled cross-legged on the ground with slumped shoulders.

Bog sat down, his back resting against the closet door, knees bent in front of him, “Bad company?”

“No,” She said quickly, afraid he took it the wrong way, “It’s just…. a gross motel. Almost as nasty as you fingering those stripper dollars”.

He flushed, “Can we not talk about that?”

Marianne grinned, “Okay, I won’t talk about all the places those ladies store their money when they don’t have any pockets”.

“Enough…” He moaned, looking up at the ceiling, “Must you persist in torturing me?”

“I thought you guys were trained to withstand such things?”

“I’m not a spy… seriously, mostly I just put other soldiers in jail”.

“Ohh,” Marianne cocked her head, “They must LOVE you…”

“You have no idea….” He chuckled, “Not that it matters. I’ll be the bad guy if it means exposing the real bad guys”.

“Hm,” Marianne smiled broadly, “I know what that’s like”.

He looked to her, a soft, intrigued look, before he returned her smile, “I suppose you do”.

They looked at each other for a silent beat and she became aware of the beauty in his striking blue eyes, young and alive amid his tired-looking features. It made her chest feel inexplicably lighter when she noted how his smile made them seem to light up.

“We should, uh…” Marianne looked to the wall, “We should discuss our leads”.

“Good idea, good idea. Yes,” He nodded as he reached into his front shirt pocket to retrieve a small notebook.

“You took notes?” Marianne asked.

“Discreetly, yes… though honestly I did most of them from recollection when we were waiting for this equipment to be signed out,” He explained, flipping through the small booklet, “There may be some holes… things moved so fast today”.

Marianne chuckled, “Sorry about that… at least you can say I’m not boring”.

“Not in the least,” He agreed and then stopped on a page, “No matter what leads we gain tonight, I still think it wise to tie up the ends of that drug lead. I checked on that number from Mal, just to be sure…”

“Dead end, right?”

“It was an AA number… you were right”.

“Ooh, that’s what I love to hear,” Marianne beamed and then dug her wallet out of her back pocket, “The card I pulled from the drawer with the drugs was for a local construction contractor, one of the smaller ones in the area. I figure we can hit them up in the morning… that is, if we aren’t still asleep. I’d at least like to get there before shift change, best chance of getting in contact with the boss. We can search Plum’s spots after that, maybe get an idea of who she was blabbing to…”

Bog made a disgruntled noise, but fumbled with a pen in his pocket before making a note anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Marianne ventured to ask, handing him the card, their fingers brushing lightly. 

He considered her for a moment before giving in with a sigh, “This is just… so different than before…”

“You mean, the Love Potion?”

“A bit, but… I know this isn’t Plum… I’m just so angry with her still,” He kept his eyes on his notepad, a furrow to his sad brow.

“I… well, she, uh… told me about what happened…”

He stiffened visibly, “What?”

“She told me… there was a girl?”

“Torrey…” He let out in a reverent breath, dropping his notepad to his knee.

“She, um… bought Love Potion from Plum?”

“It was her job,” Bog spat out defensively, “She was Narco, undercover.”

“She was?” Marianne blinked, suddenly confused, “Can I… ask what happened?”

“She never brought it in, never called it in,” He shook his head, “They didn’t know where she was.... I went by her flat, found her blitzed out of her mind with another man between her legs”.

“Was she your…?”

“My intended… or at least she would have been given another week”.

“Yikes…” Marianne breathed, gripping her legs in front of her, “She was hooked?”

“It seems she was pilfering and using for months before that… the Love Potion is the only one she didn’t have a cover for,” He shrugged, “I turned her in, she went to jail. We never spoke again”.

“God, that must have been hard…” Marianne groaned.

“Yeah, well, at least they believed me,” He looked up to her finally, his eyes darkened in his misery.

“There’s that,” she nodded, but then shook her head, “Is that why you hate Plum?”

“Short answer, yes,” He admitted, “I feel like, maybe if she had not taken it, things would have been different. This one was the nail in the coffin, though…”

“You know… Plum said that the bag hadn’t been touched, that it had the same amount in it”.

“What?” He started, his legs falling to a crossed position, “What are you talking about? That wasn’t brought up in the trial”.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Marianne sat forward, “You couldn’t properly utilize the sample in trial because the officer had not reported it properly, because… she was an addict, right?”

“That’s true…” He validated warily.

“Had Plum volunteered that information in trial, it would have meant self-implication. As it was, you could only pin her for possession, an admission of dealing would have made it much worse for her”.

He covered his mouth, running his hands over the rough stubble as he turned his gaze back to the wall, “Damnit, you’re right…” 

She remained quiet as he reflected on her words and let them sink in. She felt for him, she really did, because somehow she knew underneath all that anger was a betrayed man, broken to a world he had once been sure of. It’s not as if their job field allowed them a positive world view to begin with, but it was something else for it to be torn to pieces by someone you thought you loved.

Bog huffed out a short burst of sardonic laughter, “I think that’s always been beside the point anyways, the drugs…”

“How do you mean?”

“I always had that thought in the back of my head that… no matter how messed up she was, she would not have done what she did… if she actually loved me,” The sorrow in his face was something deep and long-held. To Marianne, it was not only heartbreaking, but breathtaking in its honesty, “And then I think… maybe she would have loved me if I weren’t so…. this.”

He gestured to himself with a distasteful scowl.

“This?”

“Crusty, prickly, cold… hideous.”

“Yo-you’re not hideous,” She stated matter-of-factly, feeling a bit of heat coming to her cheeks as she said it. His eyes were suddenly on her again, wide blue orbs locking onto her. She felt her heart go into her throat.

“Wh...what happened was not your fault,” she stammered, panicking in the fact that she was unable to look away from this man and that she was, in fact, melting beneath his gaze.

‘Merde…’

Their headphones emitted a voice loud enough that they both jumped. They hurriedly slipped them over their ears once more to hear a woman groan and then footsteps crossing the room.

“She’s up,” Bog said, “and limping.”

The sound of metal clinking and grinding made Marianne straighten.

“She’s leaving!” Marianne gasped, accompanied by the creaking of a door.

They both threw off the headphones and scrambled to their feet, hurrying to grab their weapons and gear.

“I’ll head to the North edge, you the South, keep your eye out for others. Someone may come to claim her,” Marianne instructed and Bog nodded. They split up at the door, hands to their belts as they stealthily hurried each way along the building.

Marianne turned the corner at the top, one last look back at Bog’s lanky figure disappearing around the corner at the other end. She crept slowly along the side, maneuvering around a large trash can in the dark, focussing on the dim light of the covered sidewalk along the other side.

Before she reached the second corner, a figure appeared, hurrying right across her path mere feet ahead of her. It was a girl, long blonde curls, skinny limbs and a very obvious limp. She was dressed in a torn camisole and tattered cloth shorts. Marianne could not make it out very well now once she crossed into the dark, but she seemed to be messed up pretty bad.

“Sheriff’s Department, freeze!” Marianne ordered, weapon drawn.

The girl stopped immediately, and jerked her head in Marianne’s direction. She rocked back and forth between her two feet for a moment, before taking off with all her might towards the alleyway and railyard.

“Of course,” Marianne stashed her gun and took off after the girl, who ran surprisingly fast for someone who was limping. She tried to keep track of the girl once they slipped onto the dirt alley, but it seemed there were now clouds overhead covering the moonlight. She lost the girl quickly and stopped, training her ears to the surroundings until she heard the clank of a fence being rattled. 

She was climbing the fence into the railyard. Marianne smiled as she hefted herself up quickly and scaled the fence, launching herself over it at the top. She landed with a thump and took off running down the line, thanking whatever buried genetics that gave her this valuable bit of athletic ability. 

The fence rattling became louder as she came close and finally she saw the girl again. She was still on the other side, so Marianne slowed, not wanting to give herself away. The girl struggled to heft her bad leg over the top, but the next moment she was yanked down from the top, legs kicking.

“Shit…” Marianne took off at a sprint again, trying to catch up as the girl let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Shut up, you little bitch!” A man ordered and then the screams became muffled.

“Hey!” Marianne yelled with all her might as she got closer, hoping to scare the man away from her. He was large, much larger than both the girl and Marianne, but she had to do something. She got an acceptable distance and stopped, drawing her weapon.

“Stop! Let the girl go!” A loud gruff voice caught her off guard and she squinted to see Bog making his way up the other end of the alley, weapon drawn. The man looked between the two of them and tossed the girl over his shoulder, hurrying back in the direction of the motel. He began to fumble with something at his belt as the girl thrashed, screaming rightfully once more. Marianne believed he was attempting to draw a weapon.

“Stop or I will shoot!” Marianne warned, though she doubt she could make the shot from her angle with the girl over his shoulder. She eyed the fence, contemplating if she could scale it again fast enough to intercept.

Like a bolt of lightning, Bog was suddenly on top of the man, tackling him and wrestling for the weapon as the girl tumbled to the ground. Marianne jumped up and grabbed the top bar of the fence, hefting herself up and vaulting over. She took off at landing just as Bog disarmed the man and pulled his arm back in a police hold. The burly perpetrator threw his body weight forward, however and flung Bog forward over his shoulder. Bog hit the ground hard on his back with a gasp, both his weapon and the perp’s flying out of his grasp.

The man bent to grab his gun as Bog tried to regain himself…

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Marianne screeched, priming her gun and pointing it square at the man’s chest. He considered her for a moment before ducking down again.

Marianne fired, the shot ringing out all around them, echoing off the motel walls and throughout the railyards. The man jerked back with a roar, the shot having landed square on his shoulder with. Maybe he still liked his chances, or perhaps he was just too pissed at this point, because he dove for his weapon, kicking Bog back down as he reached for it. Marianne took in a sharp, painful breath as he stood again, pointing the gun straight at Marianne.

Two more shots rang out in short succession, shortly followed by a third.

That was how Marianne had been trained in these deadly sort of situations, it was how you were sure they would not get up again. Two to the chest, check if still active, one to the head. He had not dropped his arm after the chest shots, so she easily administered the third. He dropped to the ground in a giant lump.

It took a moment for her ears to stop ringing, but the girl was still screaming on the ground when Marianne made her way over. Bog pulled himself up, breathing heavily, but he nodded to Marianne to let her know he was okay. She knelt and felt for the man’s vitals. He was indeed dead.

She turned her attention to the screaming girl on the ground. She had her eyes closed, ears covered, curled into the fetal position. Marianne knelt down and touched the girl’s bony shoulder. Met by a flinch, she tried again, stroking it gently. The girl stopped screaming, though she still shook. Her eyes opened and locked onto Marianne, removing her hands from her ears.

“It’s okay,” Marianne insisted softly, “we’re here to help”.

“Non…” The girl shook her head quickly, “Non! Je ne peux pas revenir en arrière…”

“What?”

“She’s speaking french,” Bog stood with a cough, brushing the dirt off, “She says she can’t go back”.

“You speak it?” Marianne looked to him as he came over.

He nodded and looked to the girl, “Nous sommes là pour vous protéger”.  
“Non, tu ment!” She sat up and hurriedly scooted away from them, “Vous êtes la police comme eux!”

“What is she saying?” Marianne asked, worried as the girl was racked with fresh sobs.

“I told her we were here to protect her and she said I was lying. That we’re police, like them,” Bog stated, still keeping his distance.

“Like who?” Marianne demanded of Bog who nodded to the girl.

“Comme qui?” Bog asked.

“Les hommes qui me vendent…”

Bog paused a moment with a long breath.

“The men who sell her”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The ambulance got there quickly, but there was enough time for Bogue and Marianne to convince the girl that they were there to help her. They found out her name was Sacha and she had never willingly been outside of her country before. She was only sixteen. She believed she had been in the trade for more than a year, but she couldn’t be sure because of the drug induced haze she was normally in.

By how she was sweating and scratching and aching, Bogue guessed that this had been the first time she had been without a drug for more than a few hours. When questioned about the attributes of what they had given her, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the Love Potion. By the look Marianne gave him, she had surmised as much as well.

The girl was left under the care of the hospital, but Marianne ensured her people were there to guard her door at all times. 

“You don’t mind going back with me when she is well enough to be questioned, do you?” Marianne had asked him, an exhaustion making her words strained.

“Of course I will,” He reassured.

The man she had killed was taken away soon after the girl. Marianne insisted she did not recognize him, but she would run his prints at the station that night. Bogue did not understand at first why she did not let it wait until the morning. The man was dead, knowing his name would do them no further help that evening.

“I can drop you off first,” She offered as she drove her truck down the dark road.

“It’s not on your way,” Bogue stated, not wanting to outright admit that he wanted to stay with her longer.

She nodded her acknowledgement, her eyes fixed ahead in a steely gaze. She was being rather quiet again, just as she had been when things had bothered her earlier that day. He found it odd now that he thought about it, but he had gotten to know her a great deal in the last 18 hours.

“What is it?” He prodded.

“I just can’t stop thinking...she said she was being sold by the police. This girl from halfway around the globe was kidnapped, brought here, and then pimped out by men in uniform,” She speculated, but her words were pushed out by venom, “How intimidating must that have been… on top of everything, to think that there was nobody to turn to even if she could escape…”

“Do you think that it’s true? Do you think it was more than just some criminals with procured uniforms?”

“I wish I could see it otherwise, but… I know Roland was involved in stuff like this, I know his boys were, I know the prior sheriff was at least manipulated into it. I just… I don’t know how deep it runs,” She swallowed hard, her grip on the steering wheel wringing, “It scares me to think what we might be up against”.

She said she was scared. His chest pulled painfully and his fingers twitched with the urge to reassure her physically. He knew she was right in exploring these options and he tried to see it from her perspective. This was not the county she had grown up in and she was discovering truths that nobody wanted.

“Is that why you want to run the prints tonight?” He asked.

“I want to see if he comes up anywhere… but I particularly want to make sure he has not served,” She admitted, “I don’t think I can sleep without knowing at least that much”.

His mind went back to their discussions, how he had laid his past struggles right out there for her to examine and judge. How she had let him in on the fact that this Roland character was once almost her husband.

“You said this uh, Roland guy left for Highway Patrol. Do you think she could be referring to him and his underlings?”

“That may be the start and end of it, but…” She paused, taking a turn onto the main road, “I have a sick feeling about all this… When everything came to a head last year, Roland said some very disturbing things. It stuck with me. He made it clear he wanted to rule, and he would do so from the bottom up”.

“You think he could run a whole operation like that?”

“I think he will tear through my county to get to that place of power. He thinks he deserves it no matter the cost”.

“How did a person like you ever end up with such scum?” He asked, against the warning sirens in his brain.

She snorted and then shrugged, “He was so good-looking…”

“Oh,” He looked down, truly sorry he asked.

“But to tell you the truth, my misery concerning him did not start the day I found out his involvement,” She shook her head, “I fought myself for so long trying to make everything normal, the box he wanted to keep me in, how he wanted to tower over me by making me and my life tiny. I didn’t want to see how bad he was for me. Deep down, I just knew that he didn’t want me to be…”

“You,” He finished. 

“Yeah,” She looked over at him for a short moment, her amber eyes glowing in the streetlights as she regarded him with a warmth akin to comradery.

What a horrid concept, and what a horrid creature to want to reign this woman in. He had seen her accomplish so much that day and against the resistance of everyone. She had pretty much saved his skin twice that night. She was fearless, fierce and yet more kind and compassionate than anyone he had ever met.

“Come on,” She said as she parked in front of the Sheriff’s Department building, “let’s boot up the machines and get this over with”.

He followed her up the alley to a side door and watched as she fumbled in the dark for the right keys, her soft curses making him smile. He was growing fond of her, something different than the uncomfortable tension he had felt towards her before. No, this was now entirely comfortable, though he found himself wanting to hug her.

This was alright, he could deal with this. Maybe replacing her actual person with whatever fantasy his mind concocted would rid him of those inappropriate compulsions.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, these are the wrong keys!” She turned and immediately ran into his chest.

Her hands went up to brace herself and he looked down at her dumbfounded for a moment, not knowing where to move.

“Oh,” She pushed down on his chest enough to pull her head up. He found that her fingers burnt like hot coals on his chest, the heat stealing away his breath as the rest of his body hummed in awareness of her body pressed against his.

And then, Oh God, she looked up at him. Her soft pink lips parted in her shock, her eyes dancing over his face.

“You…” She started, but then a gust of wind blew between them, blowing her bang in front of her eyes. She pushed away from him. He had never felt so cold in his life.

She looked up and sniffed the air, “We should get in before that storm hits. I’ll go grab the right keys”.

With that, she ran to her car and left him with a profound sense of loss and loneliness. Why had he been so stupid, he wondered, why couldn’t he control these feelings. Right when he thought he had it figured out and all the poor woman had to do was touch him.

He kicked at some random gravel that had found its way up the steps. He needed to focus. If he was truly fond of her, then he should focus on this case. It mattered so dearly to her, it was likely the best he could ever do.

She hurried back with a smirk, jiggling the keys as he moved aside for her. She unlocked the door quickly with a small sound of victory and stepped inside, switching on a few lights as he made his way in behind her. She shut the door firmly and locked it as he moved further into the short hall.

But then she turned on her heel to face him and he caught a glint in her eye, lighting up her features as she moved forward. It wasn’t quite a smile, but there was a happiness in her perfect features, a determined resolve beneath that.

She closed the space between them and he instinctively backed to the wall before her whole body was pressed into his once more. That spell of warmth and breathlessness overtook him once more and his previous reasoning flew from his mind. Her hands traveled up, leaving a tingling trail as the skirted over his chest and up to his shoulders.

That’s it, he thought, the end. He was done fighting it.

His hands came up to cradle her jaw and behind her neck and he stooped down to capture those perfect lips he had so recently admired, his dry lips pressing and scratching into her satiny skin. She parted her lips willingly and in a natural rhythm slid them across his, slicking them ever so slightly with her tongue until they didn’t scratch anymore.

With seemingly nothing in their way, he proceeded to devour her, pressing more firmly and insistently as he pulled her lower lip between his, exposing his teeth to bite down lightly.

She let out a tiny whimper, slaying him to the point that his jaw became lax enough for her tongue to intrude and work its magic on the inside of his lips before sliding lithely alongside his own.

And then her phone started to ring. The distraction was immediate, but her retraction was not. She pressed into him firmly for a moment longer before letting out a groan and pulling away, both of them heady from the experience.

She pulled out her phone and answered in an annoyed tone, “Sheriff Fairman”.

Whoever it was on the other line made her straighten with an ‘Oh’ and step back from Bogue. He waited patiently, his mind still ensnared by the thought of returning to such a blissful state.

“What? No,” She sounded a little worried now, “Did you call Sunny?...you’re kidding… No, Dad, not since yesterday…”

Dad? Well, maybe the mood would be shot now…

“I’ll take care of it… No, you just stay there,” She started pacing, a hand to her forehead, “I love you too… bye”.

“What’s wrong?” Bogue asked as she hung up her phone and looked around her wildly.

“My sister,” Her brows furrowed in concern and confusion as she looked up at him, “she never came home. None of her friends know where she is”.

“You just talked to her earlier…”

“He said he called when she didn’t show at the restaurant. He’s been calling ever since, even had all her friends call,” she was pacing again, “But Bog, he says her car was parked near the restaurant”.

“She made it there…” He started.

“But she never made it inside,” Marianne was breathing harder now and pacing faster as she spoke and thought, “She never would have just walked away, she…”

“It’s okay,” Bogue tried to reach out to reassure her as she started to visibly panic.

“No,” Marianne stopped and turned to face him, absolute fear written across her face, “Dawn’s missing”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a slow burn?? Ehhh, they just made out... We ALL know things can get physical before they get serious.... or at least I do.
> 
> But seriously, focus people (me), the important thing here is that Dawn is missing, there is a nefarious drug/slavery ring that seems to be running the show and Bog and Marianne are alone in fighting it.
> 
> What the hell is gonna happen next?
> 
> PS- Details are important...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot damn, son! I'm back! Let's do this!
> 
> Anyway, so Dawn has been kidnapped and things only get worse from there...

The rain hit particularly hard when it finally came in. It pounded mercilessly on the cab of the department truck as Marianne sped down the main road.

She knew that every second that ticked by would bring Dawn further and further away from her. She was sure now that her sister had been taken. Her car was still in front of the restaurant according to the cops on patrol. The owner had put in a request for it to be towed, but when they recognized it as belonging to the mayor’s daughter, they decided to leave it.

It was now past two in the morning. Dawn would not have left her car there overnight. She would not have stood up their father. She would not be out this late, no matter how much she had been trying to rebel.

She was missing for nearly eight hours. Her father waited far too long to contact her. Mariannes chest clenched when she thought of how she had dismissed her father’s worries the last time they spoke about Dawn. She lied to him, telling him Dawn was not at the party Marianne and Sunny extracted her from. She encouraged him to give her sister room. 

Or maybe he simply did not think Marianne could be of any help.

Her fists tightened over the leather-covered steering wheel. Why shouldn’t he doubt her, she thought, when she was she was the sort of person to be making out with someone she was supposed to be working a case with. All the while, her sister was being abducted and taken God knows where.

“How can I be so stupid?” She muttered to herself, glaring through the rain-splattered windshield and the wipers rapidly working to clear it.

Why had she gotten so swept away with that man? What kind of person did this make her?

She slammed on the brakes when she caught sight of her sister’s silver Accord. The wheels slid over the newly slicked road and spun the truck around to an askew halt across the traffic lane. Though the roads were dead, she threw on the emergency lights, slammed it into park, and jumped out of the cab. Her boots slapped against the wet asphalt as she hurried to the car, all but throwing herself at the driver side door. She pulled at the handle and it popped open, unlocked. She ducked halfway in, noticing first that the keys were still in the ignition, the dash beeping its warning at her as the interior light scalded her already burning eyes.

The seat was empty, not that she expected anything else. Nothing else seemed out of place, Dawn’s phone was even gone. She stood back and examined the door. There were rake marks along the vinyl interior near the door handle. Looking closer, she saw that they were deep and fresh, she was pretty sure they were from nails.

She fought to breathe around the lump and heaviness in her throat and chest as the scene unfolded in her mind. Her sister had parked and unbuckled, grabbed her phone, possibly opened the door, unless the kidnappers had. Most likely, it was the latter, given she had not removed her keys yet. From there, she was grabbed and dragged out of the car. She freed herself enough to grab for the door.

There was no telling how hard she fought or if she screamed, but that hardly mattered. The end result was that she had fought, but nobody noticed, and she was taken away.

She slammed the door and looked around her, burying her hands in her sopping hair despairingly.

This was a popular part of town, it would have been crowded when she was snatched. How had nobody reported anything?

The rain hammered over Marianne’s soaked body as she stared intensely at the driver side door, the gravity of the situation pulling her down and trapping her.

“Oh no,” She spat out, “ No nonono, not Dawn…”

She began to cry, the tears acid against her slick skin as the washed down her face. Thunder rumbled overhead and her heart hammered in her chest.

She was lost and alone, nothing to go on. Empty.

She ran back to the truck and considered her radio for a moment through tear-flooded eyes before grabbing her cell phone and speed-dialing the dispatcher.

Through her sobs, she relayed all the information she had and pleaded to have the case responded to promptly.

“And the victim?”

“17. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, five foot, two inches. Dawn Fairman.”

“Shit, Dawn?” The older woman on the other end asked.

“Yes, Dawn,” She choked on bile as she said it, “I need this out immediately, please. I will report when I have more details or a profile. Send someone for the car”.

She hung up the phone and waited, allowing herself to sob for a few shaky minutes until the squad car arrived.

She looked to the empty seat beside her and wished she had not made the decision to split up from Bog.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The whole state was abuzz with the news that the mayor of the town of Leroy, the only official township in all of Colt County, had had his daughter kidnapped overnight. Reporters started showing up within an hour of the report going out. No matter the number of missing persons or murders in the area, this case was treated with extra special care and attention.

Bogue watched all this unfold through the sensationalized media on his lodging television as he quickly got dressed. He had a sense of urgency to get to work, though it was Sunday now and he had hardly a wink of sleep.

The night prior, Marianne insisted he go back on post while she searched for her sister. He tried to help, offered everything in his power, but she was clear that she wanted him gone.

He grunted, fastening his shoulder holster, and thought of Marianne, the pain she must be feeling…

A breaking news cast broke in, the anchor announcing that the mayor was releasing a statement. The video cut over.

The mayor stood behind a podium at the courthouse, microphones from different news stations propped atop it. He wasn’t very tall, an older gentleman, plump, with graying hair and beard. He wore a suit, but had removed the jacket. He slumped forward, his face crinkled with worry and fear.

And there was Marianne, standing just behind his right shoulder. Her brow was set in a hard scowl, fatigue exhausting every feature. Her eyes flitted around the crowd, thinking and calculating. Her fingers twitched over her crossed arms, impatient as they all mulled about. She was dressed in her sheriff’s uniform, khaki button up top tucked into dark brown pants held up with a shiny black belt tight on her thin waist. Her shirt was adorned complete with a shiny nametag and buttons, patches of the department on her sleeves, and a conspicuous brass star over her left breast pocket. Atop her head, she wore a wide-rimmed cowboy hat, light tan, which she used to seemingly shield her face from the cameras every 30 seconds when she dipped her chin down. When her father began to speak, her head remained down.

“Last night,” The old man started shakily. Bogue stopped and sat down on the edge of the bed, “my daughter, Dawn fairman, was taken from her vehicle in downtown Leroy. She was there to meet me, for a family dinner…” He looked back at Marianne, who did not respond, “...Dawn is, well, a bright and special girl. Friendly to a fault and caring… She has a bright future ahead of her and we love her… very much…” He wiped at his eyes, choking up, “Whoever took her- we will do anything to get her back. Money, anything, just please… please don’t hurt her…”

He dissolved, gasping in breaths as tear streamed down his face onto the podium. Marianne’s head came up suddenly, a raw look in her eyes. She hurried to replace her father at the front, her hand gentle on his shoulder as he retreated, though her eyes were feral.

She leaned against the podium, tipped her hat up and glared at the cameras.

“We have opened up a tip line. Please, if you have seen anything, be it last night between the hours of five and eight, or anything suspicious thereafter, utilize this number to let us know. We believe the suspects may be in a van with sliding side doors, most likely windowless. The fact that no distress was detected leads us to believe that this was a quick grab by people that not only are experienced in this, but who fit or blend into our community. It may even have been a marked vehicle. Anything at all that may seem significant to you, or even just a little off, could be valuable to us”.

She paused for a moment, the hum of bustling media filling in her heavy silence as her brows knit in concentration, she seemed to be considering something.

“I must stress, however, that if someone you know has gone missing in the last year, even if you have filed a report, please contact our hotline promptly,” She looked unsure as she spoke and reporters started shouting questions, “We have reason to suspect that there are criminals posing as law enforcement to cover their tracks. There may be a backlog of missing persons that have never been officially investigated…”

The crowd exploded with noise, questions firing from all around. Marianne hardly paid them any mind.

“Furthermore,” She raise her voice over the rabble, “We have a witness and a suspect that can tie such a surge of abductions to a trafficking ring”

The demand for answers only got louder, Marianne’s face- more stoic.

“I have every confidence in those I have on the case that we are on track to finding these people responsible and shutting it down”.

She bit her lip for a fleeting moment as the people continued to shout and then she held up her hand with a stern, commanding look. The crease between her eyebrows became more defined.

“Let me just make this very clear to whomever took Dawn: You can return her now, unharmed, and stop all this madness, or I will hunt you down with every means I have and make sure you are brought to justice. Either way, I will get her back and I will find you…”

She stopped, her icey glare cutting through the screen and implying an addition to her statement: ‘and I will kill you’.

The screen cut away, displaying a picture of the cute blonde girl Bogue had only met the one time and a list of important information, including the tipline. 

There was a knock on Bogue’s door, and he adjusted his tie as he went to answer it, a bit annoyed that Stuff and Thang uncharacteristically early. Marianne’s enraged face was burned into his mind, her strength and fury so apparent that it made him uneasy. He wasn’t sure what she would do now that this case had become extremely personal.

He also wondered how this investigation would pan out now that the FBI would be coming. He was still a foreign federal on his own case, but there was a chance that the RMP would choose to hand the entirety of the case over and he would be sent home.

As much as he had wanted to leave this place the second he arrived, he now found that he did not want that to be how this case ended for him.

He opened the door with a glare, ready to unleash his less than stellar mood on his escorts…

He stopped short when the body on the other side of the door was not one of the simpering underlings, but a confident deputy.

“Good morning, sir,” The man spoke in a forward drawl, “I’ve been sent to bring you into the station”.

Bogue eyed the man, weighing this new development in his mind, “The Sheriff did not contact me about this”.

“She’s a little, uh, not in her right mind,” The deputy said in a low voice as he leaned forward and tapped his temple, “Won’t find her very personable at the moment, I’m afraid”.

Bogue grunted his resignation and invited the deputy in, “I just need to grab my stuff and we’ll go”.

He hurried through the room, stuffing his tablet into the leather satchel with all his case files before going across the room to grab his jacket and shrug it on. His eyes lingered longingly on the coffee machine as he passed it, but he sighed and faced the deputy once more. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking around, comfortable in his surroundings.

“Alright, let’s get going,” He looked to the man’s nametag, “Deputy Greeley”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marianne paced quickly in front of the desk in her office, waiting. She tried not to, but her eyes kept flitting to her phone.

It was early, yet she was terrified already at the lack of viable leads. Worse yet, she was worried at the fact that the kidnappers themselves had not made contact to ask for a ransom. If they did not want money, the alternatives, revenge or business, put them at a much greater disadvantage and placed Dawn in much more danger. 

Marianne stopped in front of her window, glaring out at the imposingly bright day. Reporters milled about around the small park across the way. Cars moved around the roads wedging it as if all else was normal. It didn’t feel right. The day should have matched the turmoil inside of her, Marianne thought. It was excruciating to be looking out and seeing anything other than a violent storm.

Her chest clenched tightly the longer she stood still staring at it.

“Tch,” she spun around. Her eyes locked onto her phone for a long moment before flitting to the gun case that held her rifle.

Why should she have to wait for some outside word when she already had a good idea of who to hold responsible?

“M-marianne?”

She jumped, not having realized that someone opened her office door. There in the doorway, Sunny peaked in, looking wholly trepidatious. His big brown eyes were glazed over with unshed tears.

“Sunny…” She tried to muster up any sympathy she could in her angry haze. She knew her sister meant a lot to him, he had to be suffering.

“What is it?” She settled on, falling far short of her goal.

“I…” he stepped in slowly, closing the door gently behind him, “I have some… some information”.

She stood straight, her eyes wide, “You do?”

“I, um… I was the last one with Dawn yesterday and um…”

Marianne rushed to him, grabbing the shorter man by his shoulders and locking eyes earnestly, “tell me everything”.

“She…” he looked away from her, “The last thing we talked about was the party… she was… she was mad at me for sabotaging her. She made me… I promised her that I wouldn’t go to you again, and that I would make it up to her. That was when she showed me the drugs…”

Marianne stiffened, an icy chill coursing through her vains, “Love Potion…?”

He looked to Marianne, eyes wide, “Yeah, how did you…”

“Where did she get it from?” Marianne demanded, giving the poor man a rough shake.

“A guy, at the party, she said…” He offered, looking more scared, “She wanted his number… I knew him, so I gave it to her. She was calling him when I left the house…”

“What were you thinking?” She demanded, “Who was he? What’s his name?”

“Tse Nakai…”

She released him and blinked, “Nakai?”

He nodded silently and she turned on her heel, “One of their girls has been missing. Doli”.

“I...I heard…” He said it quietly.

Marianne had no idea what this coincidence met, but her mind went right to the fact that Roland’s boys had been interfering with any investigations into the matter. There had to have been something more to that…

Marianne snatched her keys and phone off of her desk and turned to the gun case. She unlocked it and grabbed her lever-action 30-30.

“What are you doing?” Sunny asked as she made towards the door, rifle gripped in one fisted hand.

“I’m going to get my sister,” She answered, swinging the door wide and stepping out. Sunny hurried behind her.

“What can I do?” He all but pleaded.

“I’m going to talk to the Nakais and the highway patrol,” She gritted her teeth and looked over her shoulder at him as she hurried to the outer door, “Don’t let anyone else know what I’m doing or where I’m going... “

“Is that it?” He asked as they stepped outside. She stopped at the steps and thought before turning back toward him.

“Find out where the Love Potion came from,” She said with uncertainty before locking eyes with him, “Please”.

“I will,” he promised with a sad determination, “I’ll find out”.

Marianne nodded and stormed down the steps, marching to her truck once she reached the bottom. She jumped in and rested the rifle butt in the passenger floorboards beside her before cranking the engine.

Reason told her to follow the chain of evidence, to find out what Dawn had said and to whom before she was taken, to dig into the world that had brought the Love Potion into her sister’s hands. Her rage was speaking louder, however, and she felt determined to find Roland and whoever else was involved and make them pay, no matter the cost to herself.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Where are we going?” Bogue asked when the cruiser passed yet another turn that would take them towards main street. He had been here long enough to become familiar to the turns that would take him back to the sheriff’s office at the very least. There was absolutely no excuse why a local should not be accustomed to the route.

“Waypoint for the search parties. They’re based in a church at the edge of town”. The man spoke with a purposeful grin plastered on his picturesque face.

“You said we were going to the station,” Bogue pointed out, taking a closer look at his driver. His eyes were a deep green and remained fixed on the road ahead, a smirk stuck in place against his clear, smooth skin as he drove, left hand on the wheel. His blonde locks were swept back meticulously through obvious grooming efforts. He may as well have been chipped from marble…

Most importantly, he was notable. Yet, Bogue could not remember seeing this man’s smug face before. 

“Change of plans,” The deputy stated simply with a shrug.

Bogue looked to the road and noted the housing becoming more sparse. They were heading out of town and towards the mountain systems at the edge of the valley.

“You aren’t from the Sheriff’s office,” Bogue stated more than asked.

“Twenty-three minutes it is, then,” He laughed, “You see, we were placing bets for how long it would take you to figure it out. You having been a detective and all, the boys severely overestimated your insight and skills”.

“What?” Bogue stiffened.

“Oh, don’t take offense, you aren’t exactly civilian level… but I have plenty experience on my end from playing the long game,” He glanced at Bogue out of the corner of his eye, his amusement tinged with unspoken threats, “I win the pot because I always know what name to invoke and when…”

“What name?” Bogue prodded, his mind suddenly shifting to the gun holstered against his side.

“Why, Marianne,” His self-satisfaction oozed throughout the car, “She is, of course, your weakness at this time”.

“How do you figure that? I just met her…”

“Which begs the question, what were you thinking?” His brow crinkled ever so slightly before melting back into his smug default, “The sheriff involved in your case, not even a week in, and you’re making out with her right in the middle of the station?”

The man tsked with a small shake of his head as Bogue’s mind exploded with the possible ways this man could have known about the night before.

“It’s hilarious, really. The thought of a beast like you falling for a beauty like Marianne”.

“Roland,” Bogue concluded.

“In the flesh… You’ve heard a lot of shit about me, I know,” Roland nodded lazily, “The situation is really much more complex than the lil Princess has framed, though…”

“Enlighten me,” Bogue prodded, his fingers twitching as his hand began to move up towards his belt.

“Ah, hey,” There was a click as Roland’s free hand came up from the seat, revealing a large, silver revolver, “None of that now”.

The barrel aimed square at his head. Bogue blinked at it and started calculating the time it would take him to disarm the man. It wouldn’t be too hard at such a small space, but the discharge of the weapon was apt to do some sort of damage before the struggle was over. Unlike a service pistol, a revolver could not be disarmed through a quick disassembly maneuver either.

“I have a notoriously itchy trigger finger, by the way, best not to chance that,” Roland explained and then sighed, “Besides, I just want to talk. No need to chance a .357 round to the skull”.

Bogue’s hand stilled and he rested it back atop his lap beside his other for Roland to see, “I have nothing to say to you”.

“Really,” the man laughed, “No questions, accusations, nothing?”

He looked to Bogue, who only stared stoically ahead.

“Wow, they really did overestimate you,” He shook his head, “This is just negligence of duty…”

“I don’t take the word of a criminal with a gun pointed at my head,” Bogue growled.

“Oh come now, this is just a precaution,” He reasoned, “Would you listen to me otherwise?”

Bogue looked down at his hands, a certain helplessness filling him.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal,” He lowered the gun against the armrest, finger still on the trigger, barrel still pointed at Bogue, “I will drive you straight to Dawn…”

Bogue turned suddenly, eyes wide and attentive. Roland smiled wider.

“Yes, I know where she is. I know who put her there too,” He stated.

“You took her…” Bogue barked.

“No, no, damn,” Roland huffed, “Marianne talked a lot of shit about me, I guess”.

“She told the truth”.

“Truth is really quite subjective when you get down to the brass,” Roland drummed his left fingers against the steering wheel, “You see, how I see it… I offered Marianne everything. I set up a perfect life, just for her. She would never have to lift a finger. And what does she do? She humiliates me, puts me on blast the night before our wedding and then RUNS for sheriff against me. Worse, she WINS and expects me to work under her… I quit, of course. All over a misunderstanding”.

“Misunderstanding?” Bogue glared at the man, “You were directly involved in a homicide on post…”

“Of course I was involved, I was investigating,” He rolled his eyes, “I couldn’t come clean about why I drove the woman that day because it was part of something much bigger than Marianne’s flimsy accusations. I was trying to gain access to a drug ring that the victim was involved in. She became a target by talking to me, yes, but I did not kill her. That’s ridiculous”. 

Bogue stayed quiet, processing the new information with a brick of salt.

“Believe it or not for now, but I’m sure you know which explanation is more reasonable,” He said, “Now, back to that deal…”

“I listened to your story, tell me where the girl is,” Bogue demanded.

“Hey, now,” He gestured to the gun still in his right hand, “I make the terms and they have not been met”.

Bogue gritted his teeth, “What are they?”

“Just two very small conditions. First, you allow me to explain fully what has really been going on around here while we drive. Second, that Marianne does not pull me over before we get there”.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Roland shrugged, “But I think you seriously undermine how much of a busy-body that woman can be”.

“Her sister was just kidnapped”.

“And ten bucks says she will zero-in on me without any evidence,” He shook his head, “Didn’t you find it odd that I am in the suspect pool of all her investigations? That her ex-fiance’s name keeps popping up in your own every time you work with her?”

“She knows people doubt her, that nobody believes her,” Bogue commented and then nodded in Roland’s direction, “You can frame this however you want as the victim of false accusations, but… that doesn’t change the fact that you tricked me and are now holding me hostage at gunpoint. I would take a cockroach’s word over yours”.

“Fair enough. You’ll listen to me anyway,” Roland turned the vehicle off the highway and onto a dirt road surrounded by desert shrubbery, “Marianne has always been a bit over her head, if you must know. Always trying to make up for something, prove herself. She tries to spin things into something bigger, make her mark on the world. Her father never even wanted her to go into law enforcement, he was hoping I could take her off the streets when we were married. Maybe she would have calmed down then…”

Bogue made a disgusted noise, “And how do you explain the string of murders in this town? The missing people?”

“Prostitutes and runaways, obviously,” He stated, momentarily flourishing his pistol, “This town has never been clean, believe me. And the Reservation has a...well, a sordid history. Being so close to the border certainly doesn’t help with drug trafficking”.

“And the sex trafficking?”

“Like I said, prostitutes…”

“Slaves,” Bogue corrected with a stony tone, “I have seen this first hand…”

“What, that witness you snatched from that murder yesterday? Feel good about that? She kills a man, runs when you confront her, and yet you shoot down the man who grabbed her for you. That suspect ol girl was flaunting to the media… just another victim of her agenda. And you believe the homicidal whore… oh and the hooker you picked up last night”.

Bogue bristled and lunged for Roland, hellbent on crushing the disgusting smile on his face into an incomprehensible muck of blood. The pistol met him halfway, however, as Roland brought it up and pressed the end of the barrel into his chest.

“Hoo, boy!” Roland hooted, “Got some energy in those creaky limbs of yours. A piece of tail really mean a shot through the heart for ya?”

Bogue settled back, his anger still boiling over, but reason telling him he was better off alive. 

“Just take me to the girl…”

“Well, see, here’s the problem with that,” He took his left hand off the wheel long enough to hike his thumb over his shoulder, “You see that coming up in the rear?”

Bogue raised a doubtful eyebrow before glancing back behind them. Just a few car lengths back, a sheriff’s department truck was gaining on them.

“Shit,” Bogue cursed and hit his head against the back of his seat.

“So our little talk and excursion must come to an end…”

“Where did you take her?” Bogue demanded quickly as the truck began to tailgate them.

“I didn’t ever say I did, now, did I? I just know who did,” Roland laughed, “I’ll let you fools figure that all out for yourselves, though. If Marianne could get her head on straight and humble herself a little to me, I would help her in a second. Hell, I would make sure she had no trouble in the world if she came back to me…”

Bogue let out a hard, irritated breath. The truck pulled off the road behind them and sped up, plowing through brush on the right of the car and pulling ahead, emergency light flickering. Bogue could not see the driver. Just as the truck got ahead, it cut straight across the edge of the road, pulling broadside so Roland had to slam on the breaks. 

“Woah,” Roland chuckled, righting himself as they slammed to a stop, his hand still holding the weapon in a threatening manner. He slammed it into park with a shake of his head as the truck’s passenger side door slammed open and Marianne hopped out, gripping a rifle in one tense hand as she landed. She squared her shoulder as she glared at the car and began to storm in their direction.

“Tell me, Special Agent whatever. Do you really expect THAT to react reasonably to anything?”

As Marianne approached, her red-rimmed eyes flitted between Roland and Bogue, a disturbed shock flitting through her expression before it turned to more anger. Roland uncocked the pistol and stuffed it between the seats once more and unbuckled just as she got to the driver’s side door. He was smiling when she tore it open and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him with one hand hard enough that he stumbled out of the vehicle.

Surprised, Bogue hurriedly unbuckled and exited the vehicle, unholstering his pistol, but kept it hidden at his side as he gazed over the hood of the car at the unfolding scene.

“Where is she!?” Marianne bellowed, her voice hoarse and breaking, “Where is my sister!?”

Roland fumbled to his feet and retreated to the front of the vehicle. Marianne’s eyes flared at his getaway and she pursued him with a sudden fury, kicking him hard in the shin when she reached him again. He sunk down on one knee before her, his back to Bogue.

“I swear I don’t know, Babydoll,” He said, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender.

“Like hell you don’t,” She spat and kneed him firmly in the jaw. He fell backwards onto his rear and shuffled backwards away from the angry sheriff. She lunged forward again to stop him, this time hauling a hefty kick to his side. She raised the rifle after and he sat up, his hands up once more as she cocked the lever and sighted him in. Her eyes flitted to Bogue once more.

“What the hell is going on here? Why do you have Bog, too?”

“He came willingly,” Roland spluttered, “Looking for Dawn…”

She looked to Bogue again, he could only shrug, shock seizing his vocal abilities.

“You’re a LIAR!” She shouted, motioning to his head with her barrel. Her eyes held a worrying hurt to them, however.

“It’s true, I promise,” Roland coughed, “I just want her back safe, too… she’s like a sister to-”

“Shut UP!” Marianne screeched, and then fired the rifle over his head and into the dirt behind them with a loud and piercing boom. 

“Easy now,” Roland covered his ears and winced. Bogue himself felt he must have lost some decibels, his ears ringing as the shot still echoed around them.

“Tell me where she is!” Marianne screamed, suddenly using the rifle to hit him hard upside the head. He fell to his side on the ground with a groan before rolling over to his back. She lunged again.

“Marianne!” Bogue started towards them, reholstering his pistol, shocked at her attacks. She was atop the man long before Bogue could reach her, the rifle suddenly forgotten to the road and her fists flying and hitting with such strength that Bogue was sure the meaty thuds could be heard from a mile away. 

When he rounded behind her, Roland’s face was the bloody mess he had hoped to make himself. As satisfying as that should have been, he was concerned at Marianne’s unbridled fury as she drove blow after blow into the supine man.

“Marianne, wait!” Bogue grabbed her from behind, his arms coming up around her shoulders as he tried to pry her off. She let out a feral screech and lunged out of his grip for a moment. He tried again, this time locking his hands together around her waist. He pried her off of the beaten man and she flailed wildly, her elbows and heels knocking into his face, abdomen and shins. Roland spluttered on the ground.

“Let me go!” She demanded as he sucked in a sharp breath of pain, “Let me GO!”

“No, Marianne, he’s…”

Bogue stopped when he realized Roland’s spluttering had turned into laughter. He still lay flat on the ground, but his chest moved up and down quickly, his eyes closed, but his mouth grinning. Bogue gaped at the scene and Marianne stilled in his grasp.

“What are you laughing about?” She demanded darkly.

“Not much, just,” He sat up, wiping the blood around his mouth, smearing it on his clothes and across his face, “I have a dash cam, you know”.

Bogue dropped Marianne, who landed firmly on her feet, and they both turned to look at the windshield of the car. They had been in front of it for nearly the entire confrontation, in full view of whatever recording device was inside. Roland laughed riotously as they looked at each other, eyes wide.

Marianne started breathing erratically and then sprinted to the car, jumping into the driver’s side and searching around. Bogue watched, frozen from his spot, as she located the camera on the windshield and tore it down. In a flurry of activity, she quickly pulled up the wires leading to the bottom of the dash and then ripped out a black box.

She hurried out of the vehicle, clumsily bundling up the mess she had ripped out of the car.

“We have to go,” Marianne said to Bogue.

“It won’t matter, you know,” Roland stood and sat against the hood of his car, crossing his ankles casually, “We work on a live feed now, you see. Wave of the future. Headquarters has everything.”

Bogue looked from Roland to Marianne, who stopped halfway to her truck. Her arms fell at her sides, the camera dangling towards the ground. She turned slowly, a cold fear in her face that chilled Bogue to the bone. He felt he must have shared her feeling at that moment that she had just hammered one last nail in her own coffin. 

She moved back towards them, her eyes on Roland. She stopped a few paces away and stooped for her suddenly remembered rifle, dropping the device to the still-soggy dirt. She cocked the lever again and caught the empty shell before it hit the ground, pocketing it. She brought it up to her shoulder and squeezed the lever, disarming the safety.

She leveled her bead on Roland first, who suddenly shifted, unsure for the first time that morning, his eyes giving away his fear. 

“Bog,” She said suddenly, eyes still trained, “Get in the truck”.

“No, Marianne…”

“Just fucking do it!” She snapped, but then blinked and looked to him apologetically, “It’s okay, I’m not going to kill him...”

He moved uncertainly, but went to the truck nonetheless. He walked around the hood until he could no longer see her and a shot pierced the still desert air, reverberating around them and bouncing off the nearby foothills.

In that moment, all of time stood still for Bogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooo boy! Roland got the ever-loving piss beaten out of him! Marianne ain't kidding around.
> 
> If only the moment could have been as satisfying as it should have....
> 
> We'll deal with all the repercussions next time. And the way Bog processes all this insanity will be quite important.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Well, not back back for another couple weeks... But back for updates! This chapter is actually two chapters. My gift to you for sticking with me and also, Merry Late Christmas!
> 
> Chapter 9 has some mature content, but 9.5 is entirely explicit content. So skip it if you want and please let me know if you do so I can fill in some blanks on Chapter 10. Otherwise there may be an itty bit of character development that slips through the crack.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! Happy New Year! Wear a condom!

A high-pitched hiss echoed over the desert floor, cutting through the echoing crack of the initial gunshot. 

Bogue rounded the front of the truck at a sprint, just in time to see that Roland had slipped down the hood of the car and collapsed on the ground. Marianne lowered the gun at her side and stood tall. Bogue halted and stared, mouth agape.

“What the fuck?” Roland suddenly spouted from the dirt.

Bogue let out a breath, realizing the man was indeed alive and Marianne had not committed murder. That was the last smear she needed against her name.

He looked to the source of the whistle and noted the front driver’s side tire spewing air.

Marianne let out a hard breath and started to turn back towards the truck.

“Fine,” Roland said, pulling himself up on the bumper, “ Be that way. It won’t change what I got on you. Besides, I have a spare.

Marianne spun around, giving Bogue just enough time to cover his ears before she lifted her rifle and took another shot at the other front tire.

Roland jumped, slipped, and fell back to the ground as the second tire all but exploded. Marianne turned again, dipping down to scoop up the discarded camera and hardware. Her eyes went to Bogue with a demanding narrow of the pupils, which he took as his signal to hurry up and get in the car already. He rushed back to the passenger door and hopped inside just as she threw the camera in the back.

He felt a quick flutter of his heart as he watched her stomp to the open door, Roland cursing steadily in the background. She hoisted herself up into the cab without a word and slammed the door shut. 

They were moving before Bogue even had the opportunity to buckle himself in, the truck tires spinning in the dust as she accelerated around the currently useless cruiser. The dirt spat up around them, no doubt leaving the injured trooper with a mouthful.

Marianne took out a few bushes before pulling her truck back onto the dirt road so quickly that Bogue had to brace himself to keep from slamming into his door.

“Why were you with him?” She asked after a lengthy and heavy pause.

“I didn’t know who he was at first. He said he was one of your deputies,” Bogue explained, “And then he said he would take me to your sister”.

“And you believed him?” She asked, her words dripping with doubt and malice.

“I had to take that chance…” He reasoned, “He said he would take me as long as I heard him out and as long as…. well, only if you did not stop him”.

She scoffed.

“How did you find us?”

“He was driving on private property,” She spat, “The landowner called it in”.

“He wanted to get caught…” Bogue concluded and looked out the window at the desert landscape zipping past.

“Oh God…” She gasped suddenly, “He orchestrated the whole thing… How did he… I never thought he was smart enough to pull something like that off. Taking you, baiting me, the camera, his position… Damnit… Fuck...I am so fucked! Why did I do all that!?”

“It’s understandable, your sister is involved…”

“No! I just made everything a million times worse!” Marianne gripped the steering wheel like her life depended on it, her breaths now short and shallow, “Do you know what will happen if I’m taken off this case? Nobody will….I can’t…. Oh God, no…”

“Marianne, pull over,” Bogue directed as he watched her break beside him.

Predictably, she was defiant to his orders, “what? No!”

“You’re in no condition to drive, pull over”.

“I can judge that for myself, fuck you very much!” She snapped, her eyes flitting to him in enraged disbelief.

“Fine then,” He unbuckled his seatbelt, “I’ll just tuck and roll”.

The moment he popped open the door, she slammed on her brakes, sending him flying forward. He caught himself on the dash and then continued out of the vehicle as she slammed the gear into park.

“Are you crazy!?” She shrieked at him as he hit the dirt road with a crunch. She jumped out of her side of the truck and marched to meet him as he wandered over the shrub-line and towards the open desert. She rounded on him, stepping in front of him and making him stop.

“You need to stop,” He said in a low voice.

“Stop!? My sister is…”

“You just shot out a patrolman’s tires! You beat the shit out of him!”

“He deserved it-”

“I’m sure he did. But you do not deserve what all those actions entail,” Bogue explained, grabbing her by the shoulders, “Marianne, you have exhausted yourself, you can’t do this all on your own…”

She took a deep breath, puffing her chest, looking entirely defensive. He readied himself for further protests, but the moment she opened her mouth, her resolve crumbled…

“What choice do I have?” She gasped out, hunching forward, but holding herself up, “What am I supposed to do? Who will help my sister… No one will listen. I’m alone”.

“You’re not alone,” He responded automatically. She jerked her head up and looked at him, her eyes dark, yet expectant. He thought to himself what he might have meant by those words and how much he was willing to commit to this cause. To her.

“I feel… so alone and…” She shuddered, trailing off as her eyes clouded. Scared, Bogue thought.

“You aren’t,” He said softly and, against his better judgement, he reached out for her, his hands squeezing over her slender shoulders, “I will…”

She fell forward suddenly, into his arms, and buried her face in his chest before he could finish his statement. A moment later, her arms were wrapped tight around him, squeezing in desperation. Bogue faltered, but then rested his own arms around her, feeling her quick breaths begin to slow to match his own.

A breeze blew gently over the desert floor, bringing with it the lingering smells of moist dirt from the rains the night before. The water was gone, the rain clouds rolled away, yet the effects still remained, hungover in the blaring sun.

“Please,” Marianne sighed out into his shirt, “Help me get my sister back”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marianne gazed out the window at the town she had sworn to defend, second-guessing every face that appeared along the streets they drove down. This was not what she wanted to be doing. She wanted to be pushing through, guns blazing, storming whatever place they were keeping her sister. Finding out where like this was painful. Knowing every moment that ticked by was precious and possibly deadly for Dawn was excruciating.

It was a reaction she had witnessed in many instances. When people lost their loved ones, many would be too angry to reason, lusting after the revenge so ripe for the taking, yet just beyond their reach. It never helped. Those were the type of people she wanted to keep as far away from an investigation as possible.

Yet here she was, exhausted, angry, unreasonable, heartwrenched… and smack dab in the thick of it all.

“The next left and on the right?” Bog asked from the driver’s seat. He had, at the very least, backed off the idea of her getting some sleep(after she had made it clear that she was incapable with things as they were), on the grounds that she not drive in her condition.

“On the left,” Marianne corrected, eyeing his lanky form in her seat and dreading having to readjust the settings.

They pulled to the front of the Hospital, a perk of being the sheriff, and parked clumsily, a perk of Bog not being very practiced with American traffic procedures. Marianne rubbed her face with one hand as she stumbled out of the cab. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay to talk?” Marianne asked.

“Given her state last night, I’d say there’s a decent chance,” Bog nodded, plodding ahead of her towards the entrance. 

“What do you mean? That girl was terrified!”

“Most in that position would never even have talked to us,” He explained as the made their way through the reception area, “With the adrenaline passed, we might get a much more coherent answer of what she’s been through and where”.

Marianne liked the sound of that, she thought as they piled into an elevator. As the doors closed, she studied Bog’s determined face staring intensely ahead.

“You have a lot of experience with these types of interviews?”

He paused and crossed his arms before speaking, “I do”.

“Working homicides, or…” she trailed off.

“As a detective, yes. But as an agent, I worked everything from that to Domestic cases,” He explained with a nod, “There were, of course, a handful of sex crimes as well…”

“Have you ever worked any trafficking cases?” She asked, hopeful that he may have more of an insight to lend her than her handful of dealings with prostitution.

“Like this? Thankfully not…” He shook his head as the elevator dinged and they exited.

“Hm,” Marianne crossed her arms as they walked side by side, inches apart. She supposed she would do best to leave Bog in charge today, as much as she wanted to head the day’s events. It was weird to her, though, to think that this man would take on the position willingly when all he was obligated to was the death of a single soldier. Surely this was a segue from his original investigation. Why did he stick with her this far?

Her mind slipped back to the night before in small snippets. The relief of divulging the last year’s struggles to him, the awkward dance they engaged in, the feel of his mouth over her own…

“Sheriff,” Deputy Shelby greeted them with a somber nod from a chair outside the hospital room that held the victim from the night before.

“Anything new?” Marianne asked.

“She’s talking… a lot… Can’t understand a thing she says, though,” Shelby shrugged.

“Good thing we got this one, then,” Marianne motioned to Bog as he opened the door and went in, “ No visitors?”

“None yet,” she answered.

“Good, good… I’ll send Vega to relieve you before noon,” Marianne promised and then slipped into the room after Bog.

It was quiet and dark, the machines had been silenced and all the curtains drawn. Bog was already at the bed, standing beside it and looking down at the girl resting there. Marianne could only see her feet beneath the covers of the hospital bed. Suddenly, there were tiny arms wrapped around the middle of the tall agent’s back.

“Merci beaucoup…” The girl said in a scratchy, drowned voice, “Mille merci…”

“De rein,” Bog said in a quiet voice. When Marianne came to stand beside him at the bedside, she saw that he was petting the small woman’s head awkwardly. She seemed entirely pleased to see him, but looked to Marianne with equal joy once she noticed her.

“Mille merci!” She said with a wide smile, reaching her hand out. She looked relieved, Marianne realized, and she could not help but feel happy for the poor girl. She took her hand gladly and held it with a pat.

“She says a thousand thanks,”Bog explained. Marianne smiled and nodded.

“I don’t want to diminish this moment, but…”

“Yes, of course,” Bog nodded to Marianne and then sat down in a chair beside the bed, getting down to eye levearianne, “What do you want to ask first?”

Marianne thought about it for a moment. She should have been able to reason through this process, find the right words to get the right answers. But right now, the only question that popped into her head was “where is my sister”.

“Maybe… you should take it from here,” She told Bog, looking into his blue eyes and trying to convey the immenl with the victim, “Est-ce que vous pourrez m’aider?”

The girl looked at him for a moment and then looked down at her hand nestled in Marianne’s.

“Urgence…” Bog prodded.

“Oui…” The girl nodded resolutely, “Qu’as-tu besoin de savoir?”

Bog looked to Mse trust she was now placing in him, “You know what you’re doing, so...find out who took Dawn”.

“Comment avez-vous pris?”

“Dans les rues de Bordeaux...Une femme m'a appelé pour sa voiture demander de l'aide. Je me suis réveillé dans une boîte métallique,” She wrung her hands into the sheet as she spoke and Bog sighed with a grateful nod.

“She said she was lured from the streets of Bordeaux. Sounds like she was shipped here early on,” Bog told Marianne with a sideways glance.

“From France?” Marianne asked, disbelieving.

“Yes… let us not speculate here, though. We will continue the interview,” Bog instructed and Marianne could only nod. She would have to take mental notes of all the things she wanted to discuss.

The interview went on, Bog asking the questions and then translating the answers for Marianne. They covered the basics of her identity and age, how long ago she had been taken (6 months), how many times she switched hands(only once, thankfully), and if she could identify suspects. Marianne gawked as the interview continued, impressed not only with the abilities of Bog, but the strength and useful nature of the victim. She would be invaluable in breaking this case wide open. For this, Marianne was exceptional grateful, but she could not help but be antsy to learn some more vital bits of information, namely where she was being held.

Marianne could tell when those questions finally came, because Bog leaned in closer, a vexed expression on his face and Sacha closed her eyes, concentrating.

“M'a bandé les yeux quand nous avons déménagé , mais… nous avons été gardés dans des cages avec des clôtures de la chaîne,” She opened her eyes and looked right to Marianne, “Le sol était le ciment , afin qu'ils puissent nous arroser. Il y avait des petites portes au sol contre le mur du fond”.

“What did she just say?” Marianne demanded, looking to Bog urgently.

“They were held in chain-link stalls with cement floors. There were doors against the only walls, small ones along the floors. Apparently, they were hosed down…”

“Doors along the…” She stopped as the door to the room swung wide open and two men in suits filed in.

“Oh right…” Bog sighed and stood straight, “the feds”.

“Sorry…” Marianne shrugged, recalling that they were here at her invitation.

“We’re here to interview the victim,” The lead agent introduced, extending his hand to Bog first, “I’m Special Agent Baylor, this is Special Agent Hayes. You must be Sheriff Fairman”.

Bog cleared his throat and nodded toward Marianne, “Nope”.

“Oh, uh… apologies,” He said, blinking through his bumble and then going to shake Marianne’s hand, “Appreciate the call. We can take it from here”.

Marianne shook his hand half-heartedly, “Sure… Bog, we good?”

“Yeah,” He nodded to her and then looked back to Sacha, “Merci de votre aide. Prendre soin”.

“De rein,” Sacha smiled between the two of them and Marianne was again thankful to have found such a vital witness who was so willing to do what was necessary.

They left quickly, doing their best to ignore the FBI agents that were watching them closely. As soon as they got back to the elevator, Marianne rounded on Bog.

“I think I know where she was being held,” She said excitedly, “There’s an abandoned animal control facility in the foothills, pretty quiet up there”.

“Good. It’s a start,” Bog nodded, leaning back with his hands on the rail “Let’s organize a sweep quickly, odds are their location will change soon if they know we have Sacha… It won’t be hard if they already have other holds. Which is rather likely”.

“They probably would not hold Dawn there either,” Marianne sighed and fell against the side of the elevator, “But it’s a lead nonetheless”.

“Aye,” He looked to her and she locked tired eyes, “I’m sorry it’s all come to this. I just wish…”

She reached out and placed her hand over his on the rail beside her, curling her fingers over the edge of his knobby knuckles. His breath hitched in surprise at her touch, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Marianne smiled her thanks, not feeling steady enough to put words to her gratitude.

It was relief, really, having him beside her. For a moment, she felt as if she could breath again. For a beat of a thought, she had hope that everything would be okay.

The elevator dinged as it reached the first floor and the doors slid open.

A man waited on the other side, lab coat and glasses adorned, his hands clasped in front of him as he looked between the two with dread.

“Merle?” Marianne pushed away from the elevator wall, her hand trailing off of Bog’s, “What are you doing out of your dungeon?”

“Other duties sometimes call,” He said with a twitch of a shrug. 

Marianne stopped in front of him and looked to Bog, “This is Merle, he’s the county coroner”.

“Ah, nice to meet you, I appreciated your thorough report…” Bog extended his hand, but Merle did not even look down as he blinked quickly at Marianne.

“Marianne, I’m afraid this is not a… I’m not here to… There’s no…” He shifted, his fingers tightening together in front of him, he let out a huff, “I got a call, Marianne, about you…”

Cold dread trickled down her suddenly stiff spine, suddenly realizing what he meant by “other duties”.

“Not yet, Merle, please,” She begged, narrowing her eyes at him. His shifted away.

“It’s not really up to me,” He muttered.

“Yes, it is,” Marianne reasoned, “For now it is, you’re the only one that can do it”.

“Well…” He pushed his glasses up his nose with both thumbs, “It was just a call… I suppose I could feign ignorance at your presence in the hospital…”

“Thank you, Merle,” She sighed and looked to Bog, quickly nodding towards the door to leave.

“But I can’t put off going to the station, you know,” He spoke up before she could walk past him, “And I can’t stop them from talking to the Feds about it… Marianne, why did you-?”

“It’s complicated,” Marianne assured him, “But all that is important to me right now is my sister”.

“I know that…”

“You have my word,” Marianne said quietly, “Once I find her, I will report to you, no problems”.

He studied her for a moment before looking away again, “Okay”.

And with that, he wandered away as if they had never crossed paths to begin with.

“Let’s go,” Marianne hissed and hurried to the door, Bog trailing after.

“What was that?” Bog asked once they were outside.

Marianne jogged to the truck and scrambled to climb into the passenger side, motioning Bog to hurry. He hopped in beside her, an expectant grimace gracing his features.

“The coroner is the only one who can arrest me,” She said, gritting her teeth after.

“You have warrants already?” 

“It would seem so…”

“Shit..” He turned the engine and it roared to a stop, “We gotta work quick so we can clear your name before this gets too deep”.

Marianne’s eyes darted over to him, blinking quickly, “We can’t go back to the station, you know. We can’t use my deputies. I have to lay low”.

“I know,” He shrugged and put the truck into gear, “So we wing it. Maybe I pool my resources alone and we go under the radar the rest of the time”.

“You would… actually do that?” She asked as they pulled out onto the main road.

“Well, yes,” He flipped his hand towards her, “You practically killed a man, you do not have much room to judge”.

She sniffed and then chuckled in disbelieving humor, “Too soon. Like, a century too soon”.

“Ah, well, I was never quite good at the sensitivity stuff,” He conceded.

Marianne felt an odd warmth bubbling up in her chest as she tried to contain the smile threatening to stick. God, where did this man come from? And what odd twist of fate landed him in her lap at such a terrible, painful time? 

Maybe that was the mercy anyhow… but she suddenly wished they could have come to know each other on more desirable terms.

She looked around them, remembering that they were moving, but they were not moving to the station.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“Our new command center. My hotel room. They’ll be looking for you at your house”.

Her heart skipped for one of two reasons. One: “Isn’t that more dangerous? Bringing an ‘on the lamb’ sheriff onto an Army Post?”

“Are you kidding? They don’t care about outside those gates,” He explained, “Besides, I’m kind of a big deal around there”.

She stifled another guffaw, trying to stay focused on diffusing the second reason: “Won’t it be… weird conducting the investigation where you practically live”.

“Not at all,” He shrugged, “In fact, I regularly do work from there anyways”.

“Okay, but…” Maybe that wasn’t the whole reason she found it uncomfortable.

“But what? It’s secure, safe, good internet, easy access to federal resources…”

“No, no, I get all that, it’s just…” She sighed and stared out the window, a hand under her chin, “Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or stress or whatever… Or just today, but…”

“What?” He prodded.

“I just… Kinda really wanna jump your bones right now”.

She should not have said that, she knew. Much like so much else that day, the thought that it might be a bad idea had only struck her after the fact. She clammed up immediately, staring more intently out her window as they rolled up to the army post. Bog said nothing, but she could feel the tension of his glances as they bore into her back.

“I uh…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat, “I need your ID to get us on post”.

She fumbled to get her wallet out of her back pocket and procured her driver’s license, shoving it in his general direction without looking. They came to a stop and the driver side window rolled down.

“Good afternoon, sir,” A man outside said, there was a pause as Marianne waited to stop existing, “Uh, ma’am, I need to see your face to verify”.

Painfully, she rotated her head towards the driver side, dreading so much facing the man whom she had just proclaimed her urge to mount. Unexpectedly, his eyes met hers before she could even look to the gate guard. Even more startling was the shade of red he had made it to in the short span since she had last looked at him and the fact that he promptly looked away from her and back to the guard.

The guard noticed all this and smirked as he handed back the IDs.

“Have a great day, folks,” He nodded and motioned them ahead with an extravagant flourish.

“oh God…” Bog muttered under his breath as they pulled away. Marianne looked back out her window accordingly, but the image of Bog’s beet-red face was burned into the front of her mind. She found it did not help to ease her want of him.

“Maybe you, uh…” He still sounded flustered as they pulled into the parking lot for the lodging, “Rest, get cleaned up…”

“Yeah, maybe…” She said quickly as they parked and then jumped out of the truck as if her life depended on it. She waited until Bog rounded the front of the truck and headed towards the rooms before following him several paces behind. His rental was not far, however, and she found herself soon having to stand beside him uncomfortably as he fumbled with his keys. The second it opened, he motioned for her to proceed him.

She hurried inside and, upon locating the restroom, immediately locked herself in. With a deep breath, she braced herself against the door and took stock.

Her sister was still missing. They had a lead. She was tired. Her current partner was insanely hot despite his intense appearance. She was insanely hot for him. She was extremely stressed and worried. She had a warrant out for her arrest, so that could happen any time.

The best thing to do, she decided, would be to pursue the lead as quickly as possible and find her sister. For that, she needed Bog. She would have to confer with him on their movements and plans, working together as efficiently as possible to make up for their lack of manpower. They needed to be in sync…

But right then that only amounted to a need to be in sync with his hips.

She groaned and smacked her forehead. What on earth was wrong with her?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

Bogue sat himself down on the edge of the bed, covering his mouth thoughtfully. Upon hearing the shower tap turn on, he looked over to the bathroom door. She was probably stripping down right now…

He groaned and covered his face with both hands. Why did she have to say that?

He was thinking it, yes… had been since the night before, really. But that was so much easier to smother when the thought of reciprocation was absent. Now all he could think about was the presence of her naked body just a flimsy door away.

Even if she weren’t off-limits, this would not be the time for such thoughts. She was suffering, and they had a lot of work ahead of them. A lot of work he should be focusing on instead of his fixation with her.

He stood and pulled open a nearby drawer, digging out the area information he had collected when he first arrived. He set about creating a work-station, laying a map out atop the modest hotel table. He figured Marianne could point out where they were heading and they could formulate a plan of attack from there. He stopped, noting the landscape riddle with gulches and washes deep enough to conceal some movement and activity given the right conditions. The foothills would be the most rational choice for a working point for trafficking as it was riddled with possible passages.

So enthralled was he with the map that he did not notice when the bathroom door slipped quietly open. 

“Oh you have our map?”

He flinched at hearing her voice, but stood straight slowly before turning to face her. She stood just behind him, dressed in her pants and a tank top, drying her hair with a small towel. Her eyes remained on the table in front of them.

“I figured we should get a headstart on our plan of action. Can never be too thorough…”

“No, this is good,” She moved to the table, brushing her arm against his as she perched herself above the map, “You see this building here? That’s the animal control facility”.

He turned back to the table, peeking over her shoulder at where she pointed, “That’s good, we can sneak in the area through those trails to the east”.

“We may need to hike in… unless you’re willing to ride”.

“Ride?” 

“Yeah,” She peaked over her bare shoulder at him with a smirk, “Horses. You know how?”

“I have… some experience, yes”.

Her smile spread and she turned back to the map, “Great, this will make it much easier if we ride in through the magma wash. We can bring more supplies as well…”

She trailed her finger along the map, showing him the way and he leaned over her to get a closer look. The moment he noted the heat radiating from her body mere inches from his own, she stopped her finger tracing the paper.

Here she was, hunched in front of him, her damp back curved towards him. In his mind was a blaring fanfare of ‘she wants you’ marching to the beat of his wildly erratic heart.

Almost mechanically, he brought his hand to her far arm, running it down her bicep to the crook of her elbow. Her breath hitched at his touch, but she fell back, leaning up just slightly enough for her body to press into his. Whatever was holding him back a second before her body became flush with his was incinerated in an explosive burst of need.

His other hand moved up her side, settling at her waist as she let out a long breath. She turned quickly in his grasp and gazed up at him, her tired eyes suddenly sharp and intense. He bit his lip, feeling a niggling reluctance to go any further. She reached up suddenly and clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling him down roughly and smashing her lips into his.

The ferocity with which she came after him, moving her lips rapidly against his, teeth nipping and nails digging into the sensitive flesh of his neck, left him lost to all other sense of reality. He gripped onto her, pulling her in by her hips before gripping her behind the head and back. He stepped into her as she clawed down his shoulder, knocking her into the table. She gasped against his lips, drawing back only slightly as she leaned back and hike one leg up the outside of his thigh.

With a grunt, he grabbed the leg roughly, pulling her into his hips as the other hand cradled her head, drawing her mouth to his once more, his tongue prodding incessantly. She moaned, her hand travelling to his collar as she melted into him. She began frantically searching for the buttons on his shirt and yanking them loose. Impatient, she only got halfway down before she thrust her hands inside the shirt, caressing his abs and sides, all the while rotating her hips into his in a sloppy sort of grind.

He dropped his hand down her own neck, tracing the line of her collar-bone teasingly before cupping her breast fully, prompting her to let out a long, rapturous groan.

He paused at the noise, suddenly overwhelmed by the senses she was enveloping. Her smell and sounds, the feel of her warm body against his, the taste of her. It was too much to make sense of, he was losing his grip.

He growled, a low and guttural noise that rumbled in his chest and up through his throat as his hands gripped to Marianne firmly. He left her mouth, instead burying his face in the crook of her neck, mouthing it ferociously as he hoisted her up.

“Ah!” Marianne held onto him desperately as the table shifted beneath them. Bogue could only pull her closer, longing to feel every inch of her against him as her fingernails raked across his clothed shoulders. The table shifted again and then tipped, falling on its side beneath them.

They fell to the ground hard, both of them gasping and separating. Bogue was on his knees, still between her thighs spread before him. They stared at each other in shock, most likely some pain as well. Her brown eyes searched him quickly and her mouth opened to say something. The words hung in there somewhere, but they never surfaced, the tension between them so permeating that it stung for them to be even a breath apart.

Marianne leaned her head back against the overturned table, the map bunched beside her. For a moment, Bogue came to, a realization of what they were doing reflecting in her widened eyes. Any moment now, she would right herself and he would excuse himself to the bathroom for a cold shower, berating himself for the ridiculous events which had just transpired.

Eyes still on his, her hands fell down to her waist and she began to undo her belt and pants. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her nimble fingers work to loose her clothes over the still-damp skin of her abdomen.

“Are you gonna just sit there?” She asked in a husky breath, her hands now going to the hem of her shirt, her eyes inviting, challenging.


	10. Chapter 9.5 - smuuuuuuut

Eyes still on his, her hands fell down to her waist and she began to undo her belt and pants. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her nimble fingers work to loose her clothes over the still-damp skin of her abdomen.

“Are you gonna just sit there?” She asked in a husky breath, her hands now going to the hem of her shirt, her eyes inviting, challenging.

“No,” He barely found it in him to answer outside of a grunt, his voice quiet yet forceful. He lunged forward, grabbing the shirt from her hands and pulling it up as he slid forward between her legs. She lifted her arms up obligingly as he yanked the article off of her.

He wasted not another second and sunk forward over her, trailing his hands over the silken skin of her abs before making their way to her back and bra clasp. He hunched over her, fumbling to unlatch it as his face burrowed into her collar, inhaling her scent hastily. He hands came up to his chest as he worked, doing their own job of unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it apart. As her hands caressed his sides over his undershirt, he opened his mouth, sinking teeth slowly into her exposed nape just as the clasp came undone. 

She gasped, her head lolling back to hit the table behind her and he yanked at one of the loose straps behind her shoulder, still indulging in the taste of her savory skin. The bra quickly came free and he flung it away with abandon as Marianne took in a ragged and shallow breath. He pulled back for a moment to see if she was okay and his own breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She sat before him, shoulders stiff and head to the side, eyes squinted shut beneath a veil of pleasure. Completely free, her upper body was toned and strong, lightly defined abs curving up into her chest and shoulders. His bite had left a visible half-moon of red and pink, her sensitive flesh marred by his own ferocious nature.

He wanted to feel bad for it, but looking at it only filled him with a sense of need for more. He traced her sternum down to her pert breasts and wondered at their dampness. Was it from the shower or in response to Marianne’s own need. His body pulled, but he held his position, like fighting against an immense magnetic draw.

Oddly cool air filled the space between them as he stared at her once more. 

Marianne let out a whimper and opened her heady eyes to him with a pant, “Please… touch me…”

He melted at her words and leaned forward, bringing his fingers up to her face. He cupped her cheek, staring down into her amber eyes that glowed with their own wild heat. She looked right into him, still pleading silently. He traced his hand down to her neck, lightly wrapping his finger behind the nape and digging delicately into the soft skin beneath her ear. He felt her pulse, quick and elusive, and the heat of her want surging through her. He went lower, the tips of his fingers only this time, and dragged the thin thatch of her neck.

Her eyes closed again, gasping in response to his small touches. In response to him. His chest warmed at the thought and he followed through with the sudden urge to nuzzle his face into her hair, planting a kiss atop her head as his other hand cradled her body. She clung onto his shirt, fists tight and pulling and her legs wriggled beside him.

He cupped her breast suddenly, abandoning his trail, and relishing in the direct feel of the hot flesh. He rubbed his palm into it, rolling his fingers one by one over the stiffened nipple.

“Hnnh oh god, Bog….” She squirmed again, and he was suddenly pinned between her legs as they squeezed into his own. Immediately, he had the compulsion to grab each of her thighs and pull her to him fully, but he swallowed it and continued his ministrations, hunching over to place a kiss on the fresh bite mark on her shoulder before trailing his tongue down to her other breast. He circled the entirety of it as he gripped to her, and slowly made his way inward to circle the areola. She was moving desperately against him now, her legs trying to find a means to hook around his him satisfactorily. He took her breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the nipple several times before holding it between his teeth.

“Aaah! Damnit….” She cursed, arching forward until she could press most of herself into him. Bogue gripped her by the ribs, releasing his mouth from her, and then rubbed down her sides as she began to fall back to the floor. He pulled her, scooting back away from the table and dragging her out onto the floor until she lay fully below him. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked into him, her hand now grabbing for his belt. He grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head and she looked up at him with what appeared to be hurt confusion.

“Patience,” He leaned forward and growled into her ear before releasing her hands, “I want to feel… all of you…”

He rubbed back down her side, kissing down her body once more, nipping and sucking at her sensitive spots, relishing in the curve of her firm midsection, breathing in her warm scent. He rocked back, placing his knees below her thighs as he licked along her abdomen above her loose pants. He pushed them down further until he could see her underwear, black and plain. He bit down over the fabric and lost himself in the roll of her hips below his mouth as she cried out.

His own heart was beating wildly, his breath eager to keep up as Marianne panted in front of him. He gripped both hands beneath the waist of her pants and hem of her undergarment and yanked quickly, sliding back to facilitate the shedding of the bothersome garment.

“Marianne,” He panted and stopped as he revealed her pubic mound and the curving apex of her milky thighs, “I want to… taste…”

She cried out at the word, her hands fisting beside her head. He rubbed his hands back up the outside of her thighs, sliding over her legs that were still stuck together by the half-peeled trousers. She fought against them valiantly, trying to spread her thighs, but only gaining enough room for Bogue to glimpse the fold of her moist sex. He rubbed his hands over her hips, digging his thumbs inward in a circular motion until her reached the short patch of hair above her center.

“Ohh Bog...please…” she gasped out, now reaching for his hands clumsily. He sunk his fingers down between her legs, skimming her folds before rubbing upward again, spreading her the tiny amount he was able to manage and exposing her most sensitive bits to the open air. It looked glorious to him, but she was practically sobbing for him to do more. He leaned forward, his mouth a mere inch away from her vulva. He let out a warm breath and she trembled beneath it. He skimmed a thumb over her labia and then pressed down on her center.

She cried out a torn plea for more and dug her nails into his arms. He answered in likeness, gripping her harder, fingers pressing into her silken skin as he moved his thumb. He sunk down to her, his mouth open, and licked her fully, his tongue flat and broad at first, and then circled her clit with the tip of it. She wriggled erratically beneath him as her closed his lips over her, sucking slowly on her delicate warmth, sweet and fragrant on his tongue.

She cried out a jumble of syllables, some exclamation lost to her guttural groans. He continued his work, lavishly indulging in her core, licking, sucking, nipping his way around her in worship. He dared to delve further, darting his tongue into her as far as he could go as her legs clamped around his jaw almost painfully. She gripped into his hair, holding him down and bracing herself as her body seemed to constantly convulse amidst her cries and grunts.

Growing slicker and slicker, Bogue found he soon moved over her with no resistance, though he could feel her pulsing around him, getting closer to release. He drank her in, willing her pleasure more and more as he continued, harder now, holding her between his teeth and allowing his fingers to rub and prod simultaneously.

She panted wildly, moaning his name in a way that sparked deep within his own loins. He wanted her painfully… but moreso, he needed her to be satisfied, he needed her to give in to what he was offering. 

He slowed to a stop and she pulled at his hair in response. With one last lap, he grabbed her hands out of his hair, slick fingers closing over her wrists. He pulled away from her, trailing her juices, and looked up at her wildly flushed face as she stared down at him in eager expectancy. Her breasts heaved and her lower legs clung to him more fervently in desperation.

“Come for me,” he huffed out the demand, his voice barely rasping through his forefront lust.

Her eyes flashed something, her brow crinkling for a moment as she stared down at him. Her obedient hands suddenly twisted to grab his own. She yanked him forward with much more heft than he thought possible for her tiny frame. With a gasp, he fell forward over her abdomen, pressing down onto her until she released his hands to brace himself. He stared down at her in shock as she smirked, grabbing his head between her two small hands.

“Enough of this,” she growled, and then motioned down to her legs, “Take my damn pants off”.

He blinked, but slowly smiled in return, “Yes, ma’am”.

He slid back down, this time to her feet and yanked at her pants until he could get them past her toes, at which point he flung them aside again. He lunged to return to her, but she slid back to a sitting position , pulling her legs under her. He stopped in front of her, both of them on their knees, waiting for her to do something.

“You’re use to leading, I get that,” She nodded, raising up on her knees, thighs spread exposing the slick shine running down them, “You’re pretty damn good, too…”

He gulped as she scooted forward, body bared and irresistible. He reached out for her as she neared, but she swatted his hand away. Instead, she grabbed him by the shirt and undid the last of his buttons, yanking it off of his shoulders and down his arms. He reached for her again once they were free, but she shoved into his shoulder, causing him to fall back to his feet. He pulled his legs in front of him to a more comfortable position and she bent over him.

“But you know…”

Perched between his long legs, she brought her hand up to the front of his pants and rubbed firmly against his erection through the fabric. Gritting his teeth, he threw his head back, pleasure coursing through his body at her touch. His wrists beneath him suddenly weak, he soon found himself flat on the ground.

Roughly, she yanked his belt loose, biting her lip determinedly. He opened his mouth to say something, but found only a groan escaping as she thrust her hand down his pants, cupping him over his boxers this time.

“I don’t take orders very well,” She whispered huskily, yanking his pants down diligently. Her fingers brushed his flesh as they moved sending electric currents pulsing through his body. He arched his back and moved to enable her to dispose of the garment. She moved quickly back up to him just as he propped himself back up on his hands. She straddled him, settling slowly over him, her hot center mere centimeters from the insistent bulge in his boxers. She pulled up on his shirt and he arched forward, arms raised, to help her. When it was flung away, she grabbed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his mouth to hers. She sucked on his lips, cleaning her own juices off of them as she licked and clung. Pulling him in, she sunk down fully, letting her slick cunt slide over the length of his erection, still separated by that infernal cloth. Moaning into her mouth and closing his clouded eyes, he wrapped his arms fully around her as she rocked against him. She gasped lightly, and pulled her mouth from his. She stayed close, her quick breath hot on his face as he likewise panted into her.

“I’m not coming without you,” She breathed, “Is that okay?”

She was so warm all around him, he clung tighter to her, wanting to be buried in the feel of her. He could only nod wildly his consent to make it so. She lifted up, her breast dragging deliciously over his chest as she rose, and reached down to his boxers. With a quick flick of her wrist, she freed his shaft from its cloth prison and rubbed her hand along its length.

“Marianne,” He gasped, burying his face into her collar once more. She released him for a moment, bringing her hand up between them and to herself. He whined at the loss of contact before closing his mouth over the nape of her neck.

“Mmm,” Marianne rocked forward, pressing into him as he bit, “alright”.

The next moment her hand returned, this time slick with what must have been her own wetness. Now lubricated, her hand slid over him easily, a languid but firm pumping sending his mind into an explosive frenzy. He bucked up as her hand slid down, longing for her to surround him.

“is that what you’d like?” Marianne asked, a dark humor in her tone. He nodded again, his tongue running up to her ear before biting on the lobe. She brought her hand up to his forehead and combed it over his hair, smoothing it back as she gripped him firmly with her other hand. She slid down slowly, until just the tip was pressing into soaked folds. She stopped and he could nearly scream. He bucked up again, managing to work his head into her before she pulled up again.

“Tell me,” she demanded softly.

He groaned.

“Tell me,” more firmly this time. She lowered herself back down till he pressed into her sex again. 

He whimpered, “Marianne… please…”

“Please what?” She asked, raising up, denying him contact. His frustration getting the better of him, he roared, leaning forward with her, pressing her down into the ground, before perching over her, hands on either side of her head. He leaned forward, staring down into her all too amused eyes as her hands clasped around the back of his neck.

“Please…” he rumbled, clenching his teeth as she hooked one leg over the back of his thigh, “fuck me…”

She bit her lip with a broad smile and hooked a foot over the waist of his boxers, pushing down. Hurriedly, he helped her, all but tearing the article off of himself, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Now completely nude on his hotel floor with the county sheriff likewise and lying supine before him, the absurdity of it all struck him for one jarring moment. He was about to screw Marianne. The woman who was suffering immensely, fighting against forces seemingly beyond their reach, wanted with warrants for assaulting an officer. What madness had come over her to take this course of action? And should he really be indulging in it?

When he rocked back, Marianne sat up in response, leaning towards him, eagerness and confusion playing across her features, her lean body slinking forward. He found his mouth suddenly dry, words failing him as he played through his contrary thoughts.

His face must have betrayed him, because Marianne’s confused searching soon turned into a furrowed brow. She lunged forward, slamming her lips painfully into his. He held onto her to steady them as her lips slid sloppily over his own, a groan crawling up through his chest.

“I want you,” she whispered, parting their lips, hand gripping his chin commandingly, “that’s all…”

It echoed through his ears like a clandestine melody, playing again and again in a rhythm so constant he had to steal himself to not surrender to that beautiful thought and expose a growing penchant for her words and accord alone. The warm sentiment was not exactly cohesive to what they had been indulging in, but it was there for him, among the animal passion, making it almost painful as he realized it.

He held her then, tenderly, cradling her head in his hand as he brought her back to his lips, burying a more complex need as he moved slowly, his tongue tracing the inside of her lips. She softened, melting forward into his chest, her breasts pressing into him, warm and soft.

She moaned low, a cry almost, as she straddled him again, not breaking the precious contact of their lips until settling her warm center over his still-throbbing need. She clung to him, eyes remaining closed, breathing warm and shallow. He grazed his lips over her once more as he slowly stood, hefting her weight easily with her legs wrapped comfortably around his waist. In a few steps, he was to the bed. He sat on the edge with a plop, Marianne bouncing over him at impact. He clenched his teeth again at the feel and then looked into her eyes.

Though they had only moments before growled orders at each other amid beastly grinds, her face was soft and inviting now. He ran his hand over her cheek, rubbing with his thumb below her eye, which fluttered open with the other.

“Ready?” She asked, hushed and soft, reaching down between her own legs to grip him once more.

He swallowed again and nodded slowly, “Are you su-”

She slid down over the tip, her warm wetness stealing away his very breath, and then lowered herself down his shaft, gripping and squeezing as he filled her. His mouth hung open, the need for affirmation dead on his tongue. And just as she reached the base, she adjusted her legs, knees on the bed beside him, and jerked back up again, pushing her body into his as the nub of her sex ground up against his lower abdomen. And then she slammed back down over him rough and decisive.

His hips jerked up of their own accord as his hands clasped hard against her,he gasped out “Jesus…”

“Well,” She panted, hoisting up on him before pumping back down, “You wanted me to fuck you…”

He grabbed her hips suddenly, nails digging into the flesh, and stilled her over him. She wriggled under his touch, trying to maintain the friction, but he held her tight. She mewled in frustration as he throbbed deep within her.

“C’mon…” she whined, pressing into him further, her mouth moving against the side of his neck, sucking and licking until her groaned and bucked. He felt her smile against his skin at his reaction.

He lifted her up, gripping her rear and sliding her up his length before slamming her back down. She rocked, swaying her hips into the movement so he could feel every centimeter of himself being squeezed inside her. He picked up the pace, moving her over him as she rocked into it.

“Hnn…. ah, oh God, Bog!” She shrieked and he released her, allowing her to move again of her own accord. She jerked wildly on top of him, while his own hips rose up to meet her eagerly. He leaned back on his hands, hitting her at a new angle.

“Mmm...Hng… Marianne…”

He watched her ride him, her body stretching and bending into an arch that put the short bounce of her pert breasts on full display. She bit her lip, closing her eyes as she went into a slow, intense grind causing him to throw his head back with a gasp.

He fell back to the bed and Marianne fell forward on top of him, her eyes shooting open with a gasp. She paused in her movement, working to adjust to the new position, her hands bracing on his chest. He took the opportunity to reach up and grip one of her breasts, circling his thumb over the stiff nibble. He pushed his other hand between them to where they were so blissfully connected. He sought out her clit, circling it in tandem with his other hand over the delicate nub.

Marianne cried out, arching forward as he worked her most sensitive spots. He pressed harder, letting his fingers slide around the slick velvet. With a cry, she fell atop him completely, shuddering around him. He continued, joining the efforts of his hands by pumping into her more freely as she struggled to regain her rhythm, her moans only helping to excite him further.

“Nnn…” She gasped against his chest as he pounded into her more fervently, his hands hastily grabbing and prodding through the movement, “Wait… I’m close, I’m gonna…”

“Ohhh shit…” He groaned, his hands now gripping onto her thighs as he tried to slow himself. All he wanted at that moment was to send her over the edge, to fulfill her pleasure. But she wanted him to wait. He stopped, gripping onto her as she sat up again, his cock twitching within her.

“Don’t want to leave you behind…” she explained in a hoarse whisper and then did something distressing. She moved forward, making him slip out of her, the sudden cold air excruciating to him. He grasped after her as she moved to the side, swinging her leg off of him.

“No…” he grumbled, turning on his side as she crawled to the headboard, her retreating form torturously arousing.

“You seemed to enjoy being behind me before… that’s what started all of this, right?” She spoke as she grasped the top of the headboard, arching her back and putting her dripping vulva on full display. He grasped her intent quickly, practically scrambling to get to her.

In all his eagerness, he may have just plunged into her and gone to town, but he paused. He had to feel her first. He ran his hands along her curves, trailing his hands to her front to grasp and knead her breasts or run across her abdomen. He rubbed up the outside of her thighs and gripped her smooth and firm rump, pushing himself against her at the feel of her under his palms. She moaned and curved into each of his strokes and gropes, pushing her hips back into him as she did.

Finally, his resolve melted, and he positioned himself back at her entrance. She pushed back with her hips, covering him with her being once more. He groaned at the tighter feel of this new position and gripped a hand on her hip, holding her steady as he began to thrust inside of her, more rapidly than last time. He would not last too long in this position, he concluded, as each ram and slap of his lust brought him nearer to the edge.

Marianne gasped at each thrust, pushing her hips back to meet him as her back arched, fingers gripping hard on the headboard, shoulders hunched in such a way that he could see every line of her lean muscles clenching in pleasure.

“More…” He moaned, resolving to bring her to the brink of insanity. He slowed, making his movements precise and slow, grinding into her in a dragging motion. She cried out low and long, her hands falling to the bed, her upper body dropping further away from him. He bent forward with another thrust and wrapped his arms around her as she writhed. He shoved a hand down between her legs, rubbing into her clit in a steady and firm rhythm. The other hand came up to her breasts, gripping one as he allowed himself to fuck her quickly once more.

“AHH!” She gripped the sheets below her and cried out into one of his pillows, losing all sense of his erratic rhythm.

Pressure was building steadily in his groin, the pleasure reaching unbearable heights. He just need her to come. He just needed to hear her scream out the ecstasy he had brought her to.

He leaned up, pulling her with him until she was nearly in his lap. He pumped into her and then fell back, allowing gravity to slam her back down over him. She slumped forward, squirming into his penetration and the steady thrumming of his fingers over her clit. He wanted her nearer.

He moved his hand up past her breast, gripping her neck and cradling her chin between his fingers, bringing her towards him until her could bury his mouth against the back of her shoulder. He kissed, licked and sucked as he pounded more forcefully into her, pressing and rubbing roughly into her with his hand as he held her to him. She rocked, arching her back and suddenly keeping pace as her walls began to squeeze around him.

He was losing it, all of his reality light and stars aside from this very real, very warm presence beneath his mouth and encompassing all his pleasure.

“Hnngh AH! OH BOG! I’MGONNACOMEI-”

He gasped and growled loud enough to combat her own exclamation, finding himself unable to control his rhythm as their bodies slapped together, his fingers now trembling and gripping over her center. So close, they were both so close….

Unable to convey his insistence that she come as his guttural grunts were his only means of communication, he bit down on her shoulder, much like her had before, but harder and bracing. A small trickle of blood metallic and savory on his tongue.

Marianne screamed, her head thrown back, almost knocking into his. Suddenly she exploded around him, her body quaking as her walls trembled and clenched around him, milking him, pushing him to come as she had. His mind went blank save for the rapturous feel of her unbridled orgasm. He thrust up into her twice more as the pressure built unbearably and burst. He buried himself into her as he came, still latched to her shoulder, licking as he rode out the pulses of his orgasm. He spilled into her throbbing, clenching body, his roaring cry of euphoria muffled by the flesh clenched between his teeth.

She cried out with him, still coming as he emptied into her. He could feel the vibrations in her neck as he still held on. Her pulse was pounding against his fingertips. His body twitched into her for a few more seconds and then gave way to a sudden washing weakness.

They fell forward together, him still inside her, and collapsed against the bed. He let go of her shoulder, lapping at the blood before kissing the wound and rolling them both to their sides. He held her still, cradling her with his arm across her collar, the other leaving her clit to wrap around her waist. He buried his face against the back of her neck, panting hoarsely.

Her chest rose and fell in a slowing beat against his arm as they lay together, naked and sweat soaked. She held onto his arm at her collar and buried her head into his shoulder. Slowly, he slipped out of her and pulled her more snugly to him.

He praised whatever force had brought him to this sudden and unexpected bliss.

As quick as it had arrived, however, it soon left. Marianne shuddered against him, her body going oddly stiff.

“I…” She started, an unsure tone making Bogue intensely uneasy himself, “I need to… wash up…”

She shrugged his arm away and he released his hold. She slipped away to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs off and sitting for a moment, hunched forward with her back to him. Just like that, his senses returned to him, the graveness of their situation hitting like a ten ton weight. In the face of everything going on, what had they done?

And yet his chest still pulled with the longing to have her back in his arms, “Marianne…”

“I’ll be quick,” She said and then stood, walking briskly to the bathroom. The door closed softly, but the lock ground hard on his ears as he sat up and stared after her. He could still feel her all over him, sweat and excitement, still smell her, taste her on his lips…

And yet, he felt as if a barrier had been raised, higher and stronger than before. He stood from the bed and gathered up the soiled and stained top cover, bundling it up and throwing it in the corner, willing his mind to forget it quickly lest it begin to sting.

He went to a cupboard by the bathroom just as he heard the shower come on again. He pulled out a clean towel and wrapped it around his waist, setting his sights back on the trashed room. He gathered Marianne’s clothes and folded it neatly in his arms. He walked back to the bathroom door, thought of knocking, and then settled on leaving her stuff on the chair beside it. He went back and righted the tipped table, grabbing up the map and smoothing out the wrinkles against the flat top. He gathered the rest of his stuff, arranging it as neatly as possible, trying to remember how it had all been before…

Before…

Before they had consummated their tensions, releasing it in a rapture so feral and yet so pure that he now ached to feel it all over again. His chest tightened, remembering the warm feeling that had come over him that would be foolish not to liken to tender affections. 

It was a product of the moment, he told himself. He respected the sheriff, he cared for her on a certain level, but it would not be the permanent kind of bliss his heart was telling him it harboured. It was an illusion, it had to be.

Even if it were not, it did not matter. All that mattered was getting her sister back, clearing her name, solving his case. And then…

Well, then he could go home and put this whole thing behind him.

His chest pulled and ached again, trying to convince him that that was the opposite of what he wanted, making him feel all the more a fool.

He traced a finger over one of the thick lines in the map that foolishness had caused and frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMNIT KIDS, I SAID WEAR A CONDOM!


	11. Chapter 10

“Do you think it’s true? What they’re saying about the Sheriff?” Detective Reginald “Reggie” Cornelius asked Deputy Shelby.

They spoke outside of the sheriff’s office, Shelby nervously holding her arm and looking anywhere other than the Detective in front of her.

“I don’t… I can’t see her doing something like this without a good reason,” Shelby cleared her throat, “And I don’t think it matters, they already have a warrant out”.

“But still no Sheriff behind bars…” Reggie stepped towards her, she stepped back, “And there’s still a case to build. The DA needs witnesses to build a case”.

“I wasn’t there,” Shelby glared at a nearby mailbox.

“But you’ve seen her work first hand, you know how much of a hothead she is…”

Shelby stayed quiet, Reggie grinned.

“Come on, walk with me”.

“Is that really necessary?” Shelby spat.

“Depends, do you want to be implicated in Sheriff Fairman’s charges.

She let out a frustrated sigh and then followed him across the small street, “What more is there to say?”

They made their way into the small park in the center of town, slowly trudging along the path in the heat of the mid-afternoon sun.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Her temper…” Reggie shrugged, hands in his pockets, “I saw you at the motel. She was unreasonable, could have just left the investigation to me, but no… she got pissed, the judge denied a warrant and she had you watch the building until night. Do you know why she pulled you off duty yesterday evening?”

“I assumed she put someone else on duty. We had a fatal shooting of a suspect that night. And a victim extraction”.

“She orchestrated an illegal sting in the motel, found the prostitute, shot the pimp, and then hyped it up for the media…”

“Her sister disappeared!”

“Exactly! How can expect her to be speaking from an emotionally stable place in that state?” Reggie flung his hands out in exasperation, “Knowing her temper, how can you see the series of events from last night until now and not see that she is spiraling? She needs to be stopped!”

“That is not for me to…..” She paused, stopping dead in her tracks as she set her sights on a bench up ahead.

“What?” Reggie turned to her, but she took off at a sprint.

There, lumped onto the seat of the bench, was a mass of dirty clothes and skin. A single arm drooped down over the edge, fingers grazing the ground below. A shock of short, mussed platinum hair shone brightly in the high summer sun.

 

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Marianne stared at herself in the mirror, newly cleaned though the shower still ran, a measure she employed to ward off any possibility of Bog checking in on her. She studied her tired face, the bags under her eyes, her wet hair clinging to her. Her mind flashed back to over a year prior. That fateful day she had found that girl’s body. She stared at her father’s mirror that time, working up the courage to get ready for her rehearsal dinner. Her engagement ring had snagged on her hair.

She looked down at her hand, her ring finger now bare, any mark from it now faded from the time since she had flung it on that stage. It all started with that simple text, the realization that opened a door she could no longer close. If she could go back now, knowing her sister would be taken, maybe she would have turned away and ignored it. Maybe she would have turned a blind eye…

She closed her hand hard into a fist, shaking her head. No, that was impossible. She would do it all the same again… though maybe she would have killed Roland straight off and hidden the body.

The question was how was she continue now? Her path was so clear before, to fight against corruption, to clean up her county. Now she had become something she would have despised, an officer who put personal interests above duty, above law. Not only that, she had derailed, fraternizing with a federal agent in the process.

Oddly, though, she felt a weight had lifted from her shoulders from that morning. She had a plan of attack, though she would technically only be breaking further laws, and she still held some comfort at the fact that Bog was on her side.

She sighed, thinking of the time they had wasted on their carnal desires. At the same time, she yearned to be held by him still, against her better judgement.

She examined her shoulders and the red bruised and punctured bite marks Big had left.

Just then, her phone began to ring outside the door. The custom ringtone she used for her father, an old song he adored. She looked to the door, her eyes wide, and weighed her options. Hurriedly, she switched off the water in the shower and grabbed a towel. As she pulled it around herself, she heard a rap at the door. Fastening the towel snugly, she opened the door.

Bog stood on the other side of the door, his face turned to the ground, towel wrapped around his slender hips and hand extended towards holding her ringing phone.

“...thank you,” Marianne said and quickly took the phone from him. He turned away and she shut the door, her heart sinking as she regarded the caller ID confirming it was her father.

She took a deep breath and then accepted the call, “Hello?”

“Marianne, where are you?” Her father’s voice boomed demanding.

“I’m working,” She responded, guilt nearly choking her at her words, “What’s wrong?”

“Your sister,” He said, breathless, “They found her! At the park. She was unconscious-”

“What? When?” Marianne demanded, pacing the short distance of the bathroom.

“Moments ago. I thought you would have heard…”

“Dad, where is she now?”

“At the hospital, I’m heading there now”.

“Is she okay? What happened to her??”

“She’s not awake, I don’t know much else. Marianne, you have to meet me there”.

“I…” She thought back to Merle and her promise to turn herself in to him once Dawn was found, her blood ran cold, “I will get there as soon as possible, Dad, but… let me know how she is if you get there first, alright? Make sure she’s okay…”

“Alright Marianne, but try to hurry,” He sounded unsure, disappointed.

“I will, Dad. I love you. Take care of her”.

She hung up the phone and placed it on the counter in front of her, letting out a hard breath.

She held a hand over her heart, looking in the mirror once more, “Oh”.

She chuckled, a melancholy sound that stung her chest, as she closed her eyes.

“Thank God…”

Her sister was safe. They had found her. She was gone, but now she had just reappeared. Marianne covered her throat as he breathing became more erratic.

She was relieved, really, but she wanted to see her sister, to be sure. And she wanted to know why she had been dumped so quickly, what this meant for the theory that she was taken under the same pretext as the other trafficking victims or out of retaliation to Marianne’s own investigations.

She couldn’t go to the hospital without getting arrested and she no longer had to search against the clock to find her sister. But she needed to do something.

With a quickening of her heart, she hurried out of the bathroom. She burst out of the door and looked to Bog, who stared inquisitively as she gathered her clothes.

“They found my sister,” she explained quickly.

“What? How?” He perked up at the news.

“She was dumped, unconscious”.

“This… this doesn’t make any sense. Why would they-”

“I dunno,” Marianne cut him off, “I’m just… so glad she’s back”

She almost choked on her words as a sob built in her throat. She tried to cover her eyes as the tears built in them.

“You… can’t see her without getting arrested,” Bog concluded, this time much closer to her as he spoke. She nodded quickly, turning her face away from him.

“It was all in the setup,” He realized out loud.

“What?” Marianne turned back towards him, eyes wide.

“Your weakness,” He said, not looking directly at her, “Your sister was your weakness and they exploited it. They didn’t want her, they just wanted to ruin your reputation”.

Marianne gaped at him, nearly dropping her clothes as she absorbed the information, “I played right into it…”

“Was Roland really the mastermind then?” Bogue asked.

“I don’t…” She shook her head, “Oh god, what do I do now?”

He stayed quiet at that as tears began streaming down her face.

“I can’t go back to my investigation with warrants, I can’t even see my sister! They won!”

“Marianne, no…”

“I have no credibility now, not that there was much to start with…”

“My offer to help is still on the table,” Bog said quickly, “I can help you clear your name”.

“What’s the use? My sister is safe, nobody believed me before… I may as well just give up”.

“No,” Bog had her by the shoulders now and she turned to look up into his stern blue eyes, “That is not how this ends, Marianne”.

“I have nothing to work with,” She said quietly.

“You have me,” He restated, “And though they may have you between a rock and a hard place, they just gave up the only real piece of leverage they had”.

“Bog,” She shook her head, “If you go rogue with me there may be no going back”.

“If letting the bad guys get away out of convenience were an option for me, I would not have this job”.

She blinked up at him, her heart fluttering, though her mind begged it not to. She swallowed, thinking of her sister in the hospital, thinking of her county and of the people currently running it. She thought of the man standing before her, selfless in his resolve to aid her.

Naked, save for an ill-fitting towel. She smiled.

“Get a shower, Bog,” She instructed, wiping the last of her drying tears from her face, “We are moving in on that facility tomorrow”.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

By the time Bog finished in the shower and dressed himself, Marianne was already fast asleep on his bed. He smiled, relieved to see her finally resting.

He hoped it had taken some of the stress off of her, knowing her sister was now safe. There was still a long ways to go, but surely the element of panic would no longer be so invasive.

He looked at his watch, noting that it was still early in the evening, and contemplated what his next move should be. He decided to let her sleep while she could and go get them some food for when she woke up. If he had to guess, he would say she had not eaten since the last meal they had shared the day before.

He sat on a chair across from the bed and fastened his shoes. He looked at her sleeping form for a moment. She was curled against a pillow on her side, her body curled in a fetal position. His mind wandered for a moment, remembering how it felt to be curled behind her holding their bodies together.

Was it really okay to just go one pretending that it never happened?

He pushed the question to the back of his mind as he wrote out a short note for Marianne and left, closing the door behind him. He walked out, once again cursing the heat as he made his way across the parking lot toward the end of a block where the shoppette was located. When he arrived, he took a moment to appreciated the cool air of the a/c.

“-found in the city park, near the police department. There is no word yet on who took her or what condition she may be in. In fact, there is no sight or word from Sheriff Fairman at all. Meanwhile, there has been a warrant put out for her arrest after the highway patrol released this video-”

Bogue’s head snapped to the television in the corner of the small food court. The news had just cut to surveillance video. His heart sank when he saw Marianne in front of the cruiser, kicking Roland and levelling her rifle at his head. The video ran through the first shot at the ground and then cut off when she was hauling punches at his face, right before Bogue had tried to intercede. He wondered if that was Roland’s intent or if the Feds had screened it first and removed him.

If they had seen it, he would no doubt be removed from the case and sent home. No matter how he spun his involvement, his position would be seen as too convoluted to be unbiased.

“With this new information and the return of her sister, the Sheriff’s statements this morning are being called into question. There is now investigation of fraud-”

Of course, Bogue thought, whatever could go wrong would for Marianne. Was he truly the only person who put any trust in what she said. And here he was, the person who had known her for the shortest amount of time.

Maybe I’m wrong about her, a tiny malicious voice spoke in the back of his mind. After all, she had proven to be generally unstable in a few instances so far.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought, and went to place an order for their food.

When he returned to the room, he could hear Marianne talking from the other side of the door.

“Can’t you just trust me for once? I know what it looks like!”

There was a pause, he guessed because she was talking to someone on the phone.

“Of course I’m worried about her! I will come as soon as I can, but there are big things going on, things that could endanger her again!”

Another pause.

“I will clear this up, I will show you. I’ve not lied about a single thing… I have help. A...a federal agent. Yes….Listen, just take care of Dawn. I will use every resource I have to fix this”.

She stopped talking, Bogue waited a moment to make sure she was done before unlocking the door and slipping inside. She sat cross-legged on the end of his bed, staring down at her phone cradled in her hands, a disturbed look on her face.

“Hey,” he said when she lifted her face to him.

“Hey,” she replied, flipping her phone over on the bed in front of her.

“I brought food,” He held up the two bags he had, “I got some sort of asian food, not entirely confident of its authenticity… and I didn’t know what you liked, so I got… well, a lot of stuff”.

“Thanks,” she cut off his rambling, “Really, thank you, I’m starving”.

“Yeah, me too,” He smiled, setting the bags down on the table next to the map. He really was, he realized, and he was tired too. It had been a truly exhausting day. He paused, realizing just how exerting the last couple of hours had been since they got to his room.

“Did you hear about your sister? How is she doing?” He made himself ask quickly as he unloaded the food cartons.

Marianne let out a sigh, “She’s stable, but in a coma. They believe it be an OD…”

“Love Potion?” He asked.

She nodded, “You know, the worst part is that Sunny told me she had the drug before she went missing. The circumstances all line up for an accident, save for the physical evidence in the car”.

“Why not exploit that?”

“It’s still not enough, I don’t have any leads from it. Besides, it’s in the county lot at the moment…”

“And out of your reach?”

“Exactly…” She groaned, hopping off the bed to stand beside him, surveying their food choices, “I’m afraid we have little choice left but to catch these guys red handed…. Noodles?”

“Shrimp Lo Mein,” He said, handing her a carton and fork. She took it with a nod and settled down in a seat beside the table.

“Have you given any thought to an exit strategy if this goes sour?” She inquired, opening the carton and digging in as he prepared his own food.

“What do you mean?” He sat across from her.

“Well, it’s rather precarious, isn’t it? Staying within your jurisdiction and helping a local? If your Commander gets word of all this, he’d be on you pronto, right?”

“Well, that’s true enough..” He conceded with a nod, poking at his food with his fork, “But I’m technically still on task, given how intertwined all of this is. That soldier died alongside these trafficking victims for one reason or the other. I should be able to find that out once the operation is blown…”

There was a pause as they ate until Marianne spoke up, softly, “And with me? Are you on task when you help me?”

He blinked at her, but her eyes were glued to her noodles, “Uh, well… in a sense…”

“Nevermind,” she waved her hand, “stupid question”.

“No, it’s-”

“I need to make a call soon to Sunny. He’s suppose to be digging for me on the Love Potion manufacturer, but he should be able to help us get into the canyon with some horses. Maybe I’ll even have him go pick up mine if my house isn’t being staked out”.

“That’s a good idea,” Bogue nodded, “We can just go from here to the trailhead, draw less attention. What equipment do you need on my end?”

“Well, I have my rifle and a few other guns in the truck, but none of your super awesome spy gear…”

“Spy gear?” He chuckled, “That’s not exactly…”

“You know what I mean. Can you get it?”

He thought for a moment, watching her expectant face. He really was putting a lot on the line for her. Million-dollar equipment just piled onto that list.

“Yeah. I can get it”.

She smiled, warm and gentle and appreciative, until her face hardened into a stoic stare that drifted back to her food.

“Oh and Bog?”

“Yes?” His heart thud loudly in his ears.

“About earlier today… just forget it ever happened”.

A cold feeling permeated his chest, making his next breath painful, “If that is what you really want…”

“It is,” she stabbed at her food, not eating.

“Whatever you wish,” he stabbed at his own food, no longer hungry.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn’t what she really wanted. At least, it did not feel like what she wanted. She wanted him near, wanted to talk it out even. It felt almost painful to ignore what they had done at that point.

But there was far too much to be done, too much on the line, including both their careers. She worried for his most. He had no vested stake in seeing this all through to the end. At least she would be serving her county and clearing her name. Chances were that if he stuck his neck out like this, regardless of the outcome, he was likely to face many consequences for those actions.

All of that in mind, her heart wanted to believe that he cared for her, as much as she though she did not want that. And after all, he was just going to go back to his own country once all of this was settled.

Marianne sighed into the pillow she was hugging and looked down at Bog on the floor as he shifted and turned once more. She could not sleep with all of this going through her brain. To top it all, the man had insisted on sleeping on the floor with a quilt while she took the bed. She fought him on it, but the awkwardness of it all had made it a short battle.

How ridiculous that it be arranged like this when they had made love atop the same bed only hours prior…

No, she thought, correcting herself as she shook her head, not made love: fucked.

She rubbed her shoulder and winced, willing herself to remember the primal act as she felt along the sore, scabbing wound. As striking as that reminder was, her mind hazed over with small details of their session that felt like so much more…

The way he touched her cheek, cradling her face when he showed hesitation at their actions, how they clung to one another, the soft and pining sort of kiss in the quiet interludes, his need for affirmation that she was okay and completely consenting.

And the way he held her after, pulling her close like he didn’t want to leave. She felt a tug of regret remembering how quickly she had parted from that safe place. She wanted to feel that all again now. She wanted to be comforted.

Ideally, she would be with her sister now, watching over her, making sure she was okay. The bad guys would be caught, the day won, her name clear. Bog would solve his case and receive his accolades. Instead, she lay hiding in his hotel, failing to rest up for a dangerous raid in just a few hours, inexplicably pining for a man who would soon leave.

“Bog?” She whispered, “You awake?”

“Yes,” He answered, not a note of grogginess in his voice.

“Can...can you come up here?”

“...you think that's really a good idea?”

“Please…”

He moved the moment she let the word escape her hesitant lips, sitting up. He turned and pulled himself up on the bed. She watched him closely as he moved to her, a shadow of lanky limbs crawling quietly over the sheets. His face, barely discernable, was apprehensive yet focused on her. 

She motioned to him with a pat on the bed beside her and then turned herself over and away from him. In no time at all, he lay behind her, arm wrapped around her, his body pressed to her back. The beat of his heart was quick against her, but his breath was steady and hot on her neck.

She took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, allowing her muscles to loosen and relax into Bog’s warm embrace.

“You know…” she started under her breath with a low hum.

“What?” his whisper was a rasp in her ear.

“I unload a lot of shit on you…”

He sniggered loudly in her ear, immediately trying to stifle it completely, “sorry, sorry…”

“No, I mean it. Everything I’ve kept to myself before just comes pouring out onto you”.

“Well, I…” He paused, “Yeah, that’s weird…”

“What I’m driving at is…. I’m sorry”.

He shrugged, “Don’t be… I just want to see you win”.

“Win?”

“I want to see you destroy your opponents”.

“...you make it sound so violent”.

“Must I remind you of the morning’s events? Or last night’s? Or yesterday at the strip club…”

“Stoooop. Please don’t…” She groaned, burying her face against the pillow. He squeezed his arm around her more firmly, an oddly reassuring act.

“There is something… gratifying in watching you in all your glory”.

She groaned louder.

“That’s why I don’t mind… if you need to talk. If it helps clear your head”.

“So I can assault people?”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her back, she couldn’t help but smile herself. There was a long silence following, filled with the warmth of him all around her, his presence protective and comfortable.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” He asked, more quietly than before.

“I’m not worried about it, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve been ready for this for over a year...it’s just…”

“What is it?”

She sighed, “I am scared for Dawn. I don’t know who is what anymore and I just want her to be safe. I want to make sure she’s okay”.

“I can… If you want, I’ll go to the hospital for you”.

“You don’t have to do that”.

“I know,” he said, his words muffled in her hair as he nuzzled in closer to her neck.

Her heart raced, an odd panic making her want to flee and burrow into his embrace at the same time.

“That would mean a lot to me,” she admitted instead.

“Consider it done”, He yawned.

“We will split up in the morning then. I will meet up with Sunny and you can go to the hospital”.

He said nothing, but gave her another squeeze and sighed. 

Marianne turned her head and glanced back. Bog’s eyes were closed, his jaw becoming slack as he fell asleep. She smirked, feeling the exhaustion wash over her as well. She held onto his arm, hugging it to her, and allowed herself to just feel the moment. 

Her heart swelled. For a night, she felt that all would be well.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Agent Bogue! We know you’re in there! Open up!”

Bogue’s eyes shot open with a growling groan, “Shit”.

“What’s going on?” Marianne asked in a groggy voice beside him. They lay entwined, having shifted around in the night, her head on his shoulder, his arm around hers, her body half tossed across his.

“Agent Bogue, this is serious…” The second voice was not quite as boisterous as the first, seeming to shrink back as it spoke. Bogue recognized the pair.

“These idiots,” Bogue grumbled, untangling himself from Marianne’s limbs, “just wait here, don’t make a noise…”

She nodded as he slid off the bed and stood, adjusting his loose top and pants before straightening his shoulders and marching toward the door.

He jerked it open just enough to frame his body pressed against the frame, blocking the view into the room, “WHAT?”

Stuff and Thang cringed at his demanding tone. That ought to have knocked all the nerve out of them.

“We are suppose to take you in. Your commander contacted ours, you’re being pulled from the case,” Stuff said carefully, taking a couple of steps back.

“No,” He said simply, his lip curling in a snarl.

“Uh, well… what?” Stuff asked as Thang shrank back behind her.

“I am not going anywhere. My case is still open”.

“But your commander and… the thing with Sheriff Fairman,,,”

“What thing?”

“There was, uh...a… tell him, Thang!” She shoved the unsuspecting Sergeant in front of her to tittering protests.

“The, uh… oh geez…” Thang looked down, “There are reports of you… fraternizing. And the video with the patrolman. You were at the hospital with her yesterday and didn’t turn her in…”

Bogue said nothing, glancing over his shoulder briefly to see Marianne frowning on the bed, craning to hear the conversation. He sighed and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

He cracked his neck, staring down between the two. They visibly swallowed, their eyes growing wide visible even in the dim light of the too early morning.

“This… place’s trouble with its Sheriff is none of my concern,” He spat, “And any such reporting of my behaviour is greatly exaggerated, used to impede my investigation, WHICH I will be finishing. I will not leave until this case is CLOSED”.

“But, the Commander…”

“You tell your Commander I will leave his post if he so pleases, but…” He reached out and pointed with one jagged finger towards the entrance of the post, “Outside those gates, he has no bearing over me”.

“What are we supposed to relay to your commander, though?” Stuff asked, hands planted firmly on her hips.

“I don’t rightly care… If he feels the need to surpass communication with me, then he will have to deal with me returning that favor,” Bogue slammed his fist into the frame of the door behind him, making them both jump, “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” Thang said quickly.

“Y-yeah…” Stuff answered, looking less sure.

“Good,” he said and cracked the door behind him to retreat back inside.

“One more thing,” Stuff added quickly.

Bogue stopped with an aggravated grunt.

Stuff pointed towards the parking lot, “Is that a Sheriff’s Department vehicle?”

Bogue looked out to where he had parked Marianne’s truck the day before with a sinking feeling.

“....yes,” He blinked back at the two, “I had to borrow a vehicle because you two slackers weren’t there to escort me”.

The two looked between each other, their belief precarious.

“Speaking of,” Bogue spoke up, trying to interrupt whatever thought process was incubating in their minds, “I need a ride and supplies”.

“What? We were suppose to bring you in…”

“Yes and you were also assigned to watch over a foreign agent who consequently was abducted from his hotel. When all this shit hits the fan, is THAT how you want to be represented?”

“No!” Thang said quickly, Stuff gave him a hard look.

“Would you rather be seen as the heroes who helped take down a huge conglomerate network of criminals trafficking innocent people across continents?”

“Well, that would be...yeah…” Stuff shrugged.

Bogue bent down to face the two, looking between them with a stoney glare.

“Then. Get. Me. My. Things”.

Marianne was watching him closely when he re-entered the room with a sigh, a wide and knowing grin on her face.

“What are you smiling about?” Bogue tried not to smile back, “This is bad”.

“You,” Her grin became all teeth as she sat straighter, hands to her hips, “You’re just as shady and violent as me”.

“Quiet…” He grumbled, tossing the keys he had obtained onto the dresser. They were for Stuff’s personal vehicle. A relatively simple compromise for Bog to come by, given the alternative of stealing an official vehicle.

“No no no, I wanna know if all that by-the book talk was just that. Have you always been so severe with your subordinates?”

“Maybe you and your ‘wild west’ ways have just had that much impact on me…” He turned back towards the bed, allowing himself a small smile.

“Looks good on you,” She shrugged.

“Oh?” He chuckled and made his way back to her on the bed. He bent down and placed his hands on either side of her cross-legged figure, leaning in close to her face.

“Yeah, you have this whole dreaded king of the dark forest vibe going on,” She laughed as she fell back to the bed.

He crawled up to meet her again, holding himself over her with a vexed look, “What does that even mean?”

She simply shrugged, that same ornery look on her face. He bent down, resting on one elbow beside her, and grazed his nose across hers, pressing his forehead into hers. She let out a breath, tickling across his face and mouth, and closed her eyes. He pressed his lips into hers gently, relishing in the rush it sent through his veins and the warmth it settled in his heart.

He pulled away after a short moment, resolving to let it be without comment.

“We need to find a new base of operations,” he stated, lifting away from her and laying back on the bed, hand to his forehead, “I might have just secured myself a court martial…”

“All bets off now, huh?” Her concern betrayed her beneath the attempt of a light-hearted comment. There was probably some guilt in there too, Bogue figured.

She had already stated it the evening before, this could destroy his career. It could even possibly end with his incarceration.

Reaching out, he grabbed her hand without looking, the warm softness making him sigh. He was sure he was crazy, that all of this was a bad idea, the worst course of action.

But he felt that it was all worth it, that it was important he do this. The outcome of these events would define him. It was all so much bigger than him and yet a part of him. Marianne was starting to feel like a part of him too…

“Yeah…” he said, squeezing her hand until she squeezed back, “All bets are off”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....what?
> 
> Next chapter will be more exciting. Gotta make peeps develop feelings in the middle of some crazy shit, though, right??
> 
> Dawn and Sunny all over the next chapter. Poor babies...


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there people.
> 
> Long time, no post.
> 
> This is a disgusting chapter. Gore, darkness, violence, drugs, sex trafficking.... the works...
> 
> Some might find it disturbing, others probably think I didn't write it believably enough to be that emotionally evocative. I am slightly apologetic for both.
> 
> So, that's my warning... enjoy?

The sun was baking the pavement by 8 am. It was going to be one of those sweltering, long days that exhausted every bit of you before sunset. 

Shelby sighed and wiped at her brow, still hunched over examining the area around the skid marks left on the sidewalk of the park they had found Dawn in. It wasn’t asked of her to be still investigating this scene, but there was a gaggle of feds in the office and she had planned very well to stay clear. She was ready for this day to be over already. 

Oddly enough, she was filling most of the sheriff’s roles otherwise. Maybe that would have been a nice taste of the position if there wasn’t so much going on at the moment.

The tip line exploded the night prior with sightings of an unmarked van. A few of the accounts were of interest, most notably some reports of suspicious activity the night prior. Shelby herself orchestrated for the deputies to branch off and investigate the most promising leads. She had a feeling this ghost van of theirs was the same that had left the tracks on the pavement.

And yet, it didn’t make much sense for such an illusive sect to be operating so conspicuously. 

More concerning and stressful were the calls of missing persons. So far there were ten, including the Nakai girl that Marianne had brought to her attention. It would have been one horrifying thing to have ten missing girls in one county within the last 5 years, but each one had been purportedly reported to the authorities.

There was no record of such reports, not a single one. It would have been embarrassing were it not so blatantly heartbreaking.

But then, of course, there was the icing on the cake. It came in the form of a phone call to the department at four in the morning. Someone had gone missing from the hospital.

Shelby’s first thought was Dawn. Of course it was too easy just to have her returned… but it was something much worse for their case. Sacha Bernard, their single conscious witness, had vanished without a trace.

Of course, Shelby went straight to the hospital to investigate before anyone could commandeer that right from her. There was nothing there, though, no sign of struggle or even hospital footage. Only an empty bed. The feds pulled her from that trail the second they caught whiff of it.

There had to be someone on the inside, she found herself thinking, and here she was sitting on her hands with a key witness snatch from under them. Maybe Marianne was right about everything if things ran so deep. She could feel the guilt welling up in her when she recalled all her doubts of the sheriff. 

“What? Afraid the marks will melt away if you don’t watch em?”

That voice again, “The fuck do you want again, Reggie?”

“I need your help”.

She looked over her shoulder at the man. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shirt half untucked.

“Well, damn, not worried about anything melting on the ground now,” She stood and turned to face him with a scowl, “Hell just froze over”.

He smirked, “Acting Sheriff grew you some balls?”

“What is it?” She asked, impatient.

“Got a homicide, farmer on the southside called it in”.

“Why weren’t we called?” She demanded, “It was in county lines, why have state respond?”

He motioned towards the tire tracks, “what, and interrupt all this?”

She glared and moved herself into the shade of a nearby tree, “You got the case, so what the hell are you bothering me for”.

“Just wanted to see that pretty face,” He laughed. 

She gritted her teeth.

“Okay,” he held a hand up, “no more cheekiness. I do need your help. I can’t ID the body”.

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t know the locals as well as you guys, you know, and we could really use a preliminary” He explained, his eyes fixed away from her. It figures, Shelby thought, that he lose his cockiness when asking for a favor.

“Fine, Detective,” She sighed, perching her hands on her hip and tipping her chin up, “Lead the way”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The first call Marianne got that morning was from Sunny. He rang around 6 am, clearly distraught, delivering more bad news.

Really, she started to find herself becoming numb to it.

Her father had been hospitalized himself. But only after learning that Dawn’s coma score had degraded. She responded to no external stimuli. There was talk of the doctor’s concerns of her losing all brain activity if the coma continued. Her father collapsed.

Further, Sunny had heard about Sacha going missing from her room. This had concerned Bog immensely. 

They both hurried to get ready and pack up the room. They would likely not be returning to it until all of this was over. If it ever was. Merle called around seven, she sent it to message. He undoubtedly wanted her to turn herself in now, her sister found. That was the deal. He would have to wait.

It was while Marianne was rolling up the county map that the third call arrived. She checked the ID and answered quickly.

“Shelby?”

The girl was hushed, nervous, “Sheriff, we have a situation”.

“I know about the witness…”

“It’s not just that… I’m on the Culligan farm right now. They found a… a body”.

Another murder? Not in the alleys, but… “Is it Sacha Bernard?”

“That’s just the thing,” She was excitedly hushed, “I have no idea”.

“You’ve seen her”.

“Yes, but… please, can you get down here?” She sounded distraught now, “They want a preliminary and… I think you guys are the only one who can do it if it is her”.

Marianne looked over her shoulder at Bog, who was watching her with concern, probably after hearing Sacha’s name, “Both of us? We’re in pretty hot water right now, in case you haven’t noticed…”

“I think this can be an exception…”

Marianne frowned, “Who’s at the scene?”

“Forensics and… Reggie”.

She groaned loud enough that Bog came over to make sure she was okay, “Can you get him to leave”.

“No, but.. He is the one that told me to call you, when I couldn’t ID the… the body” She faltered again, “He’s desperate for a preliminary, before the feds get here”.

“So it’s now or never then…” Marianne trailed with a sigh, “Fine, we’ll be there as soon as possible… but the second I smell something is up, I’m out of there”.

“Thank you, sheriff!”

“Yeah, don’t thank me… it’s my job”.

“...yeah. See you soon”.

Marianne hung up and tried to wish away the oncoming migraine, “I need to drink more water…”

“What was that?” Bog asked, still watching her.

“We need to ID a body,” She said, hurriedly rolling up the map the rest of the way.

“We?”

“It might be Sacha”.

His face fell into a grave look and he turned away, grabbing up the last of his things, “What about the plan?”

“Fuck it, we’ll adjust fire,” Marianne grabbed Bog’s gun and holster from the table and held it out for him to take, “It’s not like any of my plans have panned out anyway”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Culligan farm was relatively small, but extremely profitable. It was one of two properties in the county that was certified organic and the family ran with it. Organic hay, organic produce, organic livestock… They brought to market everything from bean sprouts to goat milk candles to beef brisket.

Beef brisket sounded pretty good right then, Marianne thought as she pulled slowly along the gravel road leading to the rear acreage and barn. She surveyed the area, it was mostly open, but there were three long greenhouses that might have served well for cover in the night. The place was so organized and expensive looking, she couldn’t help but think that these were the kind of people who might have security cameras installed. If she recalled correctly, the barn in the back housed some valuable horses of high breeding. If they were surveilling anywhere, it would probably be right there, where the body was supposedly dumped.

She explained all of this to Bog as they approached the big brick barn and parked beside the convoy of forensic vehicles.

“That’s not really your concern, though,” Bog stated, eyes out the window as someone led two horses out of the wide barn entrance, “You won’t get to actually work this case”.

She blinked at him, his words stinging slightly, “yeah, you’re right. I’ll just leave it for detective dick-bag to fuck up…”

She threw the door open and stomped out, slamming it behind her. She heard Bog get out after her and pondered at his mood as she followed the police tape towards the back of the barn. He was bothered. Any good sense she had for him made her think he felt some sort of responsibility for Sacha. Maybe he had already made up his mind that this was her, abandoning the thought of rescuing her from the animal control facility.

She was not so sure that this would be Sacha. She had no gut feeling either way, but the fact of the matter was that the girl had last been seen around 3 am. Most farmers were out and about by 5, especially this time of year. It didn’t seem likely to her that a person could be abducted, murdered and disposed of on the other side of town all within two hours. 

That assessment, of course, was open to a plethora of possibly deviating factors that would reveal themselves in an actual investigation… which she was not part of…

She resolved to just get this over with as she rounded the corner.

The first thing she noticed was Reggie, leaning back on a corral pipe, smoking a cigarette with his head down. She figured she should have noticed the crowd of forensic workers spread out between them, meticulously performing their duties, or the special attention being paid to a metal trough beneath the single tree among shrubs, or how Shelby came rushing towards her. There was just something startling about one Detective Reginald Cornelius caught off his guard, zoning out. Not pissing people off.

“Sheriff,” her deputy greeted her. Reggie’s head came up, his eyes meeting hers discerningly. She stopped, prepared for a confrontation. He flicked his cigarette, his mouth in a hard line, and dipped his chin briefly, maintaining the eye contact for a moment more. And then he turned away, his eyes flicking to some far off place, and brought the cigarette back to his mouth, hoisting one arm over the rail, as if he had never seen her.

“Where?” Bog said simply, walking up beside her.

“The trough…” Shelby said, pointing it out and stepping to the side, “We’ve got maybe 15 minutes before the coroner arrives”.

Marianne clicked her tongue and shook her head slowly, “Let’s do it then…”

“Fair warning, there’s a smell…”

It hit them not two steps in, the unmistakably scent of warm, decomposing flesh. Marianne covered her mouth for a moment with a gulp, but noticed that Bog carried on as normal. The heat made it all the more worse…

When they were a few paces off, some of the forensic team looked to them and then dispersed, freeing their way and their view.

Delicate grey fingers protruded over the lip of the tub, flies swarming around them. Marianne figured she would see a body shoved and contorted into it and wondered what kind of idiot would think to hide a body there.

But then she got up to it, and peered fully into the container.

“Fuck!” She stepped back instinctively and held her gut, trying to rein herself in from gasping in too much of the putrid air. The body inside was not contorted at all, but hacked up and piled in an orderly fashion, marbled grey limb over marbled grey limb. If there was an abdomen beneath it, she could not tell within the deep and dark pool of liquid rot.

Most unsettling of all, however, was the decapitated head perched and angled perfectly for whoever was to find it. Long, matted hair splayed out in a clumpy mess behind it, the almost-green face was covered in old blood. It had congealed over innumerable wounds, most notable of them being the crude stitching of the eyelids, the string having torn at the once delicate skin that had been sewn shut. The mouth hung open, wide open, not so much like a scream, but perhaps an anguished moan.

“This can’t be her,” Bog said under his breath beside her. She turned to look at him, his face reflecting the sick pity she felt beneath the actual sick feeling. She had to agree with his assessment… that is, if it was an actual assessment and not a pleading wish.

“I can’t…” Marianne stopped and covered the lower half of her face with her shirt, “I can’t make out any defining features for a prelim… and with this heat, the body could have been here one week or one day with this level of decomp”.

“Could it really be that accelerated?” Bog asked.

“Above 100 degrees, I’ve seen a cow carcass move past bloating in 12 hours. There’s really no telling,” She explained, swatting away some flies.

“So I suppose spleen samples are out…”

“Yep”.

“Time of death could be determined by an entomologist…”

“Yeah, well, not my concern, right?”

They exchanged a glance and he sighed, “Any ideas on this though, to identify the body?”

“Initially, no, but…” she looked back to the body and stopped, “What the hell is that? In the mouth?”

The mouth generally looked like a congealed abyss, but just in the cheek she saw something silver. Bog bent down a bit to look closer before standing straight and looking around him. He found a forensics box and dug right into it, pulling out a pair of fresh gloves and a pen light. He pulled one glove on quickly and crouched down as level as he could with mouth.

Marianne bent down as well as he gently placed a steadying hand on the lip of the trough and shined the light inside the cheek. A long silver shaft stretched out between the upper and lower teeth, seemingly buried into the flesh.

“Is that… was that holding the mouth open?” Marianne asked.

Bog repositioned himself quickly, peering into the other side, “It’s on each side”.

“I think,” she looked closely, noting the look of the metal, “I think that’s a galvanized nail”.

“Pre or post?”

“Impossible to tell with so many places for all this blood to come from… but I imagine, the level of sadism, making it excruciating to move your mouth is not far off the mark of probable practices for the perp...and/or perps…”

“I don’t think it’s just that, though,” Bog explained, pointing into the mouth, “There’s no tongue in here…”

“You’re shitting me…” she looked in. Despite the pooling mess, she could sure enough make out the jagged stump where a tongue use to be.

“This is… angry”.

“It’s a murder…”

“Yeah, but… this is a message. A warning, maybe”.

“For whom?” She stood again, still staring at the body, trying to find something discernible.

“I guess that really depends on who this use to be” Bog explained, also standing.

It’s for you, Marianne could not help but think, this is for you to see.

She turned her attention to the limbs again, setting her sights on the hands. The nails had already sunk, but she noted that they were a rosy pink color.

“Hold on…” She crouched closer, holding her breath, and examined each visible nail, noting chipping and, eventually, a secondary color beneath the pink, “This is not Sacha…”

“No?” Bog sounded more than relieved.

“No,” She stood, her stomach churning a she did, “What color do you think this hair is?”

“I really can’t tell, It’s completely covered and stained,” Bog paused, further examining the matted tresses, “It seems to have absorbed a lot. Looks porous…”

Marianne blinked at the hair, her spine straightening as her mind mulled over the information, “It could be bleached”.

“Sheriff, hate to interrupt,” Reggie ambled up to them finally, having finished his smoke, “We got the coroner pulling in now, you might want to vacate out the back. You got a name for me?”

“No,” Marianne sighed, stepping back from the body, “But it is not Ms.Bernard. And she might be from the reservation”.

“Might?” Reggie frowned, “What makes you say that?”

“A feeling at best…” Marianne sighed, “I need to go check on someone”.

She turned to leave, but Reggie reached out and grabbed her wrist, halting her. Bog visibly bristled in front of her.

“You’re in a pretty compromising position, princess,” The Detective grumbled, “You will let me know what you find out”.

She jerked out of his grasp, turning slightly to shoot him a glare.

“I will call Shelby,” she hissed, “And if you ever touch me again, I will break all of those damn fingers, you understand me?”

Reggie’s hands flew up, but he simply stared at her as she went to leave again, motioning Bog to follow in the process.

They walked back around the barn and made a beeline for the truck. Marianne stared up the dirt path to the front of the property, a cloud of dirt indicating an approaching vehicle. She decided they would need to take one of the irrigation roads out through the fields.

“Do you mind driving, I-”

She was cut off when Bog suddenly lurched over and held onto the side of the car with a short gag. She blinked as he held his stomach with his free hand and breathed quickly.

“Need a hand?” She asked. He shook his head quickly and spit into the dirt a few times, “Well hurry it up or I’ll be arrested and we’ll be at the source of shit creek…”

“I’m good,” He strained out, standing and wiping his mouth.

“Well, I’ll drive, don’t forget how to use the windows, alright?”

He stayed silent, simply nodding as he ambled for the passenger door and climbed in. Marianne jumped in and started the car, staring at the rearview as Merle’s car rounded a paddock.

She sighed and pulled the truck around, steering it down a bumpy access path as Bog rolled down the window and leaned his head out, “Well, it’s nice to know you’re as human as the rest of us”.

He thrust his hand up towards her in a reversed V sign, his palms facing away from her.

“Is that… an insult? I don’t…”

He folded his index finger down, flipping her the bird.

“Ah see, now you’re American offensive”.

He groaned and sat back in his seat, looking to her, “What’s the plan?”

“If you’re up to it,” she shrugged, “We need to check on Mal”.

“The stripper?”

“It may be presumptuous of me, but she’s the only one I know with chronically bleach-destroyed hair…” Marianne explained as they pulled back onto the main road.

“Wait, you think that was Mal?”

“That’s what we gotta check on…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The drive to the club was shorter than he thought it would be. Bogue tried to pick Marianne’s brain to figure out what her plan was next if Mal was still alive. He had to wonder what her priority was for the day, after everything had happened. Did she still intend to raid the shelter still? Was she intent on finding Sacha?

Things had gotten so much more muddled than they already had been, it sure was starting to feel entirely intentional.

They pulled into the parking lot of the strip club and parked alongside an old sedan with a bungied bumper.

“Jerry’s not out waving his shotgun around, that’s a good sign at least,” Marianne hopped out. Bogue followed, walking beside her as they stepped towards the wide entrance.

The dull, loud boom of shotgun fire stopped them dead in their tracks, followed by the loud crack of what sounded like a pistol. Wood splintered off of the front door as the ducked and sprinted to take cover behind the nearby car.

“God Damnit!” Jerry’s voice roared from within the building.

“Seems we got here at a bad time,” Marianne gasped out, “We need to get this under control now”.

Bogue nodded, pulling out his own sidearm, “Where’s yours?”

She pat herself down quickly and groaned, “oh shit, it’s in the truck”.

“I’ll cover if you-”

The front door burst open as another round of shots were fired and none other than Mal came tumbling out of the dark building, her blouse splattered with blood. She struggled to pull herself up and reached for something just beyond her grasp. Jerry appeared in the doorway shortly after, pumping the shotgun and expelling the spent shell before raising the weapon up and aiming it right at Mal.

“Go!” Marianne prompted, give Bogue a shove. He primed his handgun and stood, training his sight on Jerry’s chest.

“Drop the weapon!” He demanded, advancing on the scene.

“You assholes again?” Jerry shifted his attention to Bogue, “Where were you five minutes ago when this bitch pulled a gun on me?”

Jerry kicked at the object Mal was reaching for, knocking it further away. Bogue’s yes flitted down long enough to see what appeared to be a small .380. He looked back up to Jerry, he was unharmed, but now pointing the shotgun at Bogue.

“It’s him!” Mal screeched, clearly distraught, “ He’s been taking the girls!”

“No! I never touched those girls!” He yelled, swinging the weapon back down to Mal, “You shut your damn mouth!”

“Sir, I’m telling you, put the gun down!”

“No!” He swung it back to Bogue, “You’re going to kill me! They all want to kill me!”

“What?” Something about him was kind of off, Bogue thought, and he noted how hard the man was squinting in the sun, “Nobody is trying to kill you”.

“Well, I mean, I kinda am,” Mal coughed, coming up to her knees and reaching for her gun again.

“See?” Jerry screeched, swinging his gun back to Mal.

“Really?” He scoffed at Mal, who shrugged.

“Dickhead shot first,” She reasoned.

“That’s not…”

“SHUT UP!” Jerry swung wildly between the two before settling on Bogue, “There’s only one way I leave here, and it’s with someone in the ground”.

“Sir, there’s another way, we can help you…”

“Nobody can help me!” He held the gun tighter, his finger extending through the trigger, “this is the end of the line…”

His finger began to curl.

A thunderous crack echoed through the parking lot. Jerry’s shoulder flew back, the shotgun going flying. Bogue ducked and ran, grabbing up Mal and taking her back to the old beater car. He swung her around, sitting her down in the dirt.

“For God’s sake, don’t fucking move,” He growled and then swung around, peaking around the bumper. Jerry was on the ground now, a cloud of dirt evidence of his fall.

“AAAAAAAAHHHH,” The yelled, a string of curses and obscure howls of pain following.

“Oh come on now,” Marianne walked around the back of the truck beside them and out into the open, swinging her rifle up to her shoulder, “That was a good clean shot in the arm”.

“You shot me! You fucking shot me!” Jerry rolled to his side, still howling. 

Bogue got up and followed Marianne as she neared the injured man.

As they approached, he reached out towards his weapon with the uninjured arm. Bogue hurriedly grabbed the shotgun up as Marianne crouched in front of him.

“Shh sh sh, lemme see,” She grabbed his arm up and examined as the man continued to wail and fidget, “See, a through and through, you’ll be fine. You’re welcome”.

“You-...” He looked at her with wild, confused eyes, “YOU SHOT ME!!”

“Yeah, I did,” She nodded, dropping his arm, “I understand you’re a bit fucked up right now on whatever has you ranting like a paranoid loon, but… a princess keeps her promises. Now, I TOLD you: If you ever point a gun at one of my people again, I would be the one to pull the trigger first and I would NOT miss”.

His eyes seemed to gloss over as she spoke.

“See, you gave me a good plenty of places to aim, and I chose this one. So, you’re welcome”.

Jerry’s head fell back as he passed out.

Marianne sighed and stood, “So ungrateful…”

Bogue let out a long breath, the tension of the standoff finally subsiding.

“Did you kill him?” Mal demanded as she hurried up the the two, her jeans now caked in dirt. She made it to Jerry in relatively few strides and hauled off a kick to his unconscious gut.

“Woah, hey!” Bogue pushed the girl back with the butt of the shotgun, “He’s down, it’s okay”.

“It’s not okay!” Mal screeched at him, “He killed the girls! He killed all the girls!”

“What are you talking about?” Marianne demanded, grabbing Mal by the shoulder.

“I have proof. He has a stash of trophies and the drugs!” Mal explained, motioning to the club, “In there, I’ll show you, I promise, just lock him up…”

Marianne nodded to Bogue, who set the shotgun down at a nearby pillar and stashed his pistol, pulling out a pair of cuffs.

With much effort, Bogue hoisted the unconscious man by the good arm and dragged him the short distance to another pillar.

As he worked to cuff Jerry’s hands around the pillar behind his back, he watched Marianne check Mal over.

“He peppered ya a bit,” Marianne assessed, noting the bloody area on her abdomen.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mal reasoned.

“Well, wait until that adrenaline winds down, gonna hurt like a bitch,” Marianne smirked.

“Yeah thanks, God willing I’m high as a kite on morphine by then…” She groaned, “Kinda surprised that SOB howled as loud as he did. He was off his ass when he found me in his office…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it was the Love Potion, I’m guessing his own supply,” Mal nodded, “I’m surprised he hit me at all, he was wobbling so much”.

“Kinda careless of him…” Marianne trailed.

Bogue had to agree. It seemed odd to him that whoever was orchestrating all of the chaos in this county cut into his own stash to the point of inebriation. It seemed odd to him that the man he had met before would hit up a stash at all if he were being honest with his own assessment. 

He had to follow the evidence, though.

Mal and Marianne moved towards the door and Bogue trailed behind, giving Jerry one last look.

“Gotta say, Mal,” Marianne said hesitantly, “I’m pretty relieved to see you alive”.

“What? Did you think that ass was gonna kill me?”

“No, it’s not that. The reason we came over here was to exclude you from a victim pool”.

They were inside now, surrounded by the cool air conditioning. The place was quiet, well before working hours, and it felt stale compared to the energy of before.

Mal stopped at the bar and walked around before speaking somberly, “Another body?”

“Yeah,” Marianne answered.

“No positive ID… must have been bad,” She ducked down below the bar.

“Understatement…” 

Mal came back up with a tray and slammed it down on the counter, tiny bags of sparkling pink powder bouncing on impact. Bogue’s eyes widened taking in the sight of thousands of the things piled high on top of each other. The sheer amount must have been worth at least a quarter million dollars.

“Holy shit,” Marianne sat at a stool across from Mal, “Where the hell was this?”

“He left his safe open,” Mal shrugged, and then took a bulging envelope and set it down beside the tray, “I also found this”.

Bogue reached out and took the envelope, flipping the top off. It was filled with bills, mostly 100s by the look of it. But against the back were a series of pictures. He pulled them out and set the envelope down to flip through them.

The very first picture was of the strip club, empty save for a line of girls bound and gagged sitting atop the stage, the light making their downturned faces glow red. They all looked extremely out of it, probably drugged. There was no sign of everyone else in the picture. One blond-haired girl caught his attention.

“Marianne,” He laid the photo down in front of her and pointed. She looked down at it and her eyebrows crinkled.

“Oh, that’s Doli,” Mal said, her face contorting with the heavy frown.

“What?” Marianne looked up, her eyes widening.

“They bleached her hair, but…” Mal looked down at the photo with a sad expression, “ I’d know my girls anywhere”.

“Do you have any idea when this might have been taken?” Marianne asked and Bogue turned his attention back to the pictures. They were full body shots taken in a non-descript room, a windowless wall behind them. Each girl was posed naked, their ankles chained and wrists bound in front of them, where they held individual numbers. Most of them were undoubtedly drugged, all bruised and cut, a few actively crying. Their hair was done, though, their bodies cleaned, even makeup applied.

“I do, actually. Those chair props in the back were left out the night after you guys were here,” Mal answered confidently, now moving behind the bar to make herself a drink, “Nicky the night manager is awful at putting shit up, I was pissed about it when I came in yesterday”.

“That recent?”

Bogue flipped to another picture, one of Doli. She looked terrified and clutched her piece of paper hard enough to crinkle and obscure the numbers.

“Yes, so… she was alive and here!” Mal exclaimed, pouring a long draw of bourbon, “That’s good, right? You can get her back?”

“We’ll try,” Marianne said. It sounded sincere, but wavering for a promise.

Bogue looked closer at the picture of Doli, squinting at her fingers.

“Thank you,” Mal sighed, taking a swig of her drink, “I just want this all to be over. I can’t bear the thought of harm coming to my girls. They’re like family”.

Bogue cleared his throat, lowering the photo below the bar, and nudged Marianne’s leg beside him. She looked up at him with a blink and then down at the presented photo beside her lap. He tapped over the fingers and she squinted to see what he had seen: rosy pink nail polish. Her breath caught upon further inspection.

“What?” Mal put her glass down and looked over to the two, who looked back up.

“I just remembered, we can’t make an arrest here,” Marianne said without missing a beat, “You need to call Tribal PD and get them out here. We need to get going”.

“Alright, well… how are we gonna handle all this?” She motioned to the drugs and photos.

Marianne bit her lip and looked to Bogue.

“Well, we already compromised this evidence,” Bogue said, waving the stack of photos, “Might as well take it with”.

“You seem to be the only ones looking for these girls, but….” Mal looked between the two of them, “Do not fuck this up”.

“Thanks, Mal,” Marianne gave a thumbs up and swung her leg off the stool, heading for the door. Bogue followed, tucking the pictures into his pocket carefully.

“Oh and if you hear or find anything, please, please let me know,” Mal pleaded.

“We’ll do our best to update you,” Bogue said when Marianne didn’t answer. He had no idea if it was actually true.

When they got outside, Jerry was still out, but breathing steadily. Marianne stopped at the porch and examined the wall along the front. She pulled a pocket knife out of her pocket when she found what she was looking for and flipped it open. She began prying at a hole until out popped the round she had fired at Jerry. She caught it before it hit the ground.

“One less loose end,” She explained, dropping it in the front pocket of her shirt.

They made their way to the truck silently. The doors shut, she started the engine, put it in drive and let off the brake…

“Fuck me, it’s Doli,” Marianne hissed sadly.

“Do we call your deputy?” He asked as she turned onto the main road.

Suddenly, she gunned the engine, the tires squealing slightly as they sped off in the opposite direction of the way they came in.

“No, we call Sunny”.

“Why?”

“We need to set up a meeting with Tse Nakai, right now”.

“Are you informing family already?”

“Not exactly,” Marianne shrugged, “Tse has information about Love Potion. And I have just the right amount of leverage to get it from him”.

“You’re kidding,” He looked at her, incredulous, “You would use his dead sister…”

“She’s been missing for over a week, Bog… and this guy was dealing at parties through the same people who took his sister. He was dealing to MY sister…”

“So…” He looked at her as she glared ahead, “You don’t think the strip club owner is good for this?”

“Do you?”

“No, not really, it doesn’t make much sense,” He admitted, “Reeks of a setup. Why would all this evidence come to light now… and to be so high on the stuff-”

“Exactly!” Marianne smacked the steering wheel, “Only question is: who? Why are they so desperate now?”

“You don’t think it was Mal?”

“No”.

“Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that body was a message for her too, for talking to us”.

He thought back on the symbolism of the crime scene and frowned. It was plausible.

“Oh but, heads up, I did plant one of your super spy bugs on the bar”.

“What? When?”

“When she was grabbing a glass, I stuck it under the lip of the bar. Just in case… hope you don’t mind”.

“No,” he said slowly, “that’s fine”.

In reality, it took all of his willpower in that moment to not tell her that he loved her.

Given the disturbing set of circumstances, that probably would have come across more than a little awkward and creepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide whether these guys are decent at investigating and shootouts or really bad at police work.
> 
> Because damn, I count at least 5 big mistakes and more than several terminable offenses...
> 
> Ha, you wily kids... shooting people and stealing evidence. What will you get up to next?
> 
> What indeed...
> 
> Also, Mal could have started patching herself up... but she made herself a drink instead. That girl.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, yay.
> 
> Our story is progressing this chapter. As events amp up, I will probably pump out my writing quicker.
> 
> I love reviews, blatant hint...
> 
> I seriously appreciate all of you that are reading either way, though. Thank you for sticking with me this long.

Sunny rubbed his face, fighting against the afternoon light. It was normally a welcome sight to him, the lull time of another busy day. But his eyes were dry and red still from crying all night, and his head was throbbing from lack of sleep and hydration.

At the moment, he was staring out of a hospital room window, struggling internally for motivation to help Marianne. He spent the night beside Dawn, trying to talk her out of her coma, even past visiting hours. That was one benefits of being so easily overlooked, he supposed.

He turned back towards her bed where she lay unmoved, still hooked up to all manner of machine, which now included an intubated respirator. Her coma scale had degraded shortly after they had initially stabilized her. Sunny recalled her father’s weathered state of distress at the development. It led to his own hospitalization. 

He frowned, thinking of the general misfortune of the small family in the last few days. He was torn about how best to help them. He knew he had to do something, though.

He felt responsible for this.

He walked to Dawn’s side once more and took her dainty hand in his. She was pale, even more than usual, and her fingers were limp and cold under his touch.

“I’m so sorry, Dawn, I wish I never…”

‘Don’t worry, about a thing…’

His ringtone interrupted, pulling him out of his self-loathing. He scrambled to reach it in his jacket hanging on the visitor chair. He nearly dropped it in his eagerness to answer.

“Yes?” He answered quickly, pressing the phone to his ear with both hands.

“Sunny,” Marianne said it in a way that made him feel he might be in trouble again, “I need your help”.

“Yes, anything,” he answered quickly.

“First, how is Dawn?” 

He looked behind him at the unconscious girl, “same. No improvements”.

“Are you keeping track of everybody coming in?”

“Yeah, it’s only been personnel on the chart. No changes in medication,” He reported.

“That’s good,” Marianne sighed, “The second you smell something fishy…”

“I know, I know… I’ll call in the cavalry”.

“Right… So, this favor… I need to meet with Tse Nakai”.

“Tse? Right now? Isn’t he just a dealer? I heard there was another murder…”

“We think it might be Doli”.

Sunny’s heart flipped sickeningly in his chest at the missing girl’s name, “No…”

“It’s just a guess based on some features, but… it’s our best one,” She explained, “I’m heading to the Nakai house now, can you do your best to make sure Tse makes it there too?”

“Yeah, I’ll make some calls…” He trailed off, his chest clenching.

“Let me know, we’ll be there soon,” There was a pause, “Just keep watching out for my sister”.

“Of course”.

“Thank you Sunny”.

She hung up and Sunny immediately set to work, searching through his phone contacts until he found Tse.

“Well, how’s our princess Dawn?”

Sunny jumped at hearing Roland’s distinct voice. He turned quickly to see the man at the bedside, looking down at Dawn. Roland was patched up from his run-in with Marianne the day before, his arm in a sling and a slouch that said he was nursing broken ribs.

“What are you doing here?” Sunny demanded, making his way to the other side of the bed.

“What, I can’t check on a dear acquaintance? She would have been my sister-in-law, you know..” He reached out to touch Dawn’s forehead…

Sunny grabbed the man’s offending hand with surprising speed and strength, stopping him effectively.

“A little testy there, Sandy”.

“It’s Sunny,” He glared and shoved Roland’s hand away, “Why are you here?”

“Gotta check up on the witness, of course. Working alongside the FBI now since your good Sheriff derailed,” Roland smiled smugly and turned his attention to the monitors, “So tell me, what does Marianne want with Tse Nakai?”

“You...you heard… I,” Sunny struggle to maintain his resolve, gripping the hospital sheets in front of him, “I’m not telling you anything!”

Roland still smirked, “Strange, isn’t it? How Dawn got worse overnight?”

Sunny’s words caught in his throat.

“It’s a shame, really, such vibrant life, so young,” He looked back down at Dawn, “It’s really too bad she got tangled in Marianne’s mess”.

“Get out,” Sunny croaked.

“I may leave,” He shrugged, “But others will come. She’s not going anywhere. You want to keep her safe, but what can you do just sitting here, all alone?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Tse Nakai? Does she want to talk to him?” Roland asked, “Because we have him in custody from a traffic stop this morning, he was transporting a considerable amount of drugs”.

Sunny stayed silent, now clutching onto Dawn’s hand.

“I want you to do just one thing for me,” Roland explained, leaning forward with a finger raised, “Just one little thing and I will have my men guarding this room. I will promise that no harm will come to this girl”.

“I won’t-”

“Hey now, it’s no big deal. I just need to meet with Marianne. You know I can’t arrest her, right?”

“I’m not worried about you arresting her”.

“My part in all of this is blown way out of proportion. You think I want anything to happen to this family? I love Marianne-”

“That’s not what she says”.

“Well… you’ve had a front row seat to this shit show. You know how she is,” Roland shrugged, “All I am going to do is give her a chance to atone, a chance to contribute to the actual investigation”.

Sunny looked down at Dawn’s slack face, wishing she were awake for the millionth time.

“And this is the only way you can be sure that Dawn is safe,” Roland assured.

Sunny closed his eyes, feeling trapped and afraid. No matter his decision, there would be detrimental consequences.

But he had vowed to protect Dawn….

“What will it take?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sunny called back surprisingly quicker than Marianne had thought. She was pulling up to the Nakai residence when her phone rang. She noted the lack of vehicles in front of the old brick home before she parked.

“Sunny,” She answered her phone, looking over at Bog who watched her intently, “What do you got for me?”

“Tse isn’t there,” He started.

“No kidding”.

“He’s off the rez right now. I arranged for him to be at the Primrose soon”.

“Oh nice, we can meet him there,” Marianne smirked, relieved to be able to confront the man in such a familiar place, “Wait, does he know he’s meeting us?”

“He thinks he’ll be making a sale,” he answered.

“Well, that’s creative. Thanks”.

“No problem,” he said in a low tone, “Hey, I gotta go, a nurse is coming in…”

“Alright, I’ll call after,” Marianne promised, but Sunny had already hung up the phone.

“Hm,” She stared at her cell thoughtfully.

“Everything alright?” Bog asked.

“I think so,” she said, finally putting her phone down, “He’s probably just tired. I imagine he didn’t get much sleep at the hospital”.

“So he’s your sister’s friend?”

“He’s pretty much in love with her, so… I trust him”.

Bog chuckled, “Love can make people do crazy things…”

“Yeah, well, I know he has her safety and interests at heart,” She explained, looking behind her as she backed onto the main road once more, “Anyways, we’re meeting Tse at the Primrose”.

“Kinda public…”

“Lynn will be there,” She smirked, “I’m not too worried. We may need to employ her aid anyway. Sunny needs to stay at the hospital, we’ll need a lift to the canyon tonight”.

“We got a lot more loose ends now…” Bog commented.

“We have to go,” Marianne stated resolutely, “There’s just too much at stake to potentially leave any more innocent lives at the mercy of these heartless monsters”.

“And we need those girls and the evidence to pull all of this together,” He shook his head, “And to clear up your name”.

Marianne glanced over at him as he gazed out the window, feeling a sense of relief at his words. The odd part was, it was not so much the idea that her name would be cleared up that affected her, it was that it was important to him. She turned her attention back to the road, the brush and desert drifted past swiftly, and smiled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Mercy me, it feels nice to be human again,” Marianne exclaimed after inhaling another cup of coffee, “I can’t believe I’ve been neglecting my caffeine intake for so long… and food! Ugh…”

She returned to her plate of bacon and eggs with a happy sigh. Bogue couldn’t help but chuckle as he worked on his own cup of tea, having devoured a plate of waffles minutes before.

A moment’s reprieve from the weight of the world, he thought, suddenly grateful that the Nakai boy was late.

At least, they supposed he was late. There was really no set timeframe, but they had expected him to show up shortly after they arrived. The call of food and coffee caved them to the idea of breakfast precisely five minutes in, however, and they had been sharing a pleasant meal ever since.

“I suppose our appetites were smothered by this morning’s scene…”

“Do NOT bring that up now,” She pleaded, gnawing on a strip of bacon, “Or ever again, if we can manage”.

Bogue smiled.

“Need anything else?” Lynn said happily, refilling Marianne’s cup.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Bogue nodded.

“This’ll do for now,” Marianne said gratefully, “And thank you for seating us at the back booth”.

“Well, don’t want another scene in here courtesy of our dear Sheriff, do we?” Lynn chuckled, “Anyhoo, this is on the house today. Y’all look rough…”

“I beg your pardon, I have never looked better,” Marianne turned her nose up before shovelling some more eggs into her mouth.

Lynn turned to Bogue and nodded in Marianne’s direction, “Right dime, this one”.

“Dime?”

“Perfect ten!” Marianne held up all her fingers, talking around the food in her mouth.

Lynn laughed, but Bogue’s heart swelled as he looked at Marianne’s relaxed face, her beautiful brown eyes lit up for the first time in days. Perfect ten.

“Suits,” Lynn said suddenly under her breath, “My four o’clock”.

Marianne looked, having the better vantage of the door, she frowned once more, “It’s the FBI Agents”

“Baylor and Hayes?” Bogue asked, setting his cup down. He chanced a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the two agents from the hospital had just walked in the restaurant. And they seemed to be looking around for someone.

“Think we can chance talking to them?” Marianne asked.

Bogue shook his head, though he was unsure. Better safe than sorry, he thought, not wanting to see Marianne locked up somewhere before they could go further in the investigation.

“Wait here,” Lynn said, setting down the coffee pot, “I’m gonna seat them at the other end”.

“Thanks, Lynn,” Marianne smiled.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, keeping her eyes on the door and hurrying off.

“Well this is awkward,” Marianne sighed.

“I doubt they know we’re here,” Bogue reassured, “Unless they were tapping a phone. It’s not you they’re after now, though. Your warrant is none of their business”.

“I hope so…” She said and then looked relieved, “She seated them on the other side of the kitchen. They can’t even see us. At least not in these seats”.

“Well that’s good at least”.

He watched as her look of relief stiffened, her eyes widening in some mix of fear and anger, her hands clenching into fists atop the table.

“What?” He asked quickly, but could not help but to look over his shoulder just in time to see the door swing open again. In strode Roland, his head held high with a cocky stare. Tailing him was the shorter, hunched over Merle.

“Shit…” Marianne hissed, “This just keeps getting better and better…”

She shifted quickly, ducking beneath the table and surfacing beside Bogue. She scooted over, sitting flush to the wall and took a deep breath.

“Maybe they won’t come down this way,” Bogue offered, ducking his head down.

“I should be so lucky…” she whispered.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the clink of boots neared their dining area. As it got closer, Bogue tried to think of what he might do to help Marianne. There was surely a back entrance to through the kitchen. Maybe he could stall them long enough for her to slip away.

Maybe he could just punch Roland.

Marianne’s hand came to rest on his wrist, just above the hand that he had not realized he had made into a fist. He looked to her and she shook her head just as the footsteps stopped.

“Well, what’s this?” Roland sounded much too pleased with himself, “Looking kinda cozy here…”

Marianne let out a long breath and then glared up at Roland, “Sit.”

She kicked the seat across from them roughly. Bogue looked at her quizzically, but she was suddenly sitting straight, her demeanor hard.

“This is a surprise,” Roland chuckled warily, “Merle… seat yourself at the bar. I’ll let you know.”

Merle ducked his head in a silent nod before shuffling away. The reaction was both a relief and severely disheartening. 

Roland sat with a thump, swinging his bad arm up to rest on the table between them.

“I got the judge riding his ass to have you arrested, you know,” Roland explained, “Ain’t nobody left to keep their foot in the door for you any more”.

“That broken?” Marianne asked, tilting her chin up towards his arm. 

Roland pulled it from the table, cradling it to his body defensively.

“Noticed your gait is a little wobbly too,” Marianne continued, “And your face…”

“Alright darlin’ that’s enough-”

“No, seriously, you think it’ll scar? Maybe you’ll be disfigured…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Bogue stiffened at the sudden unexpected shift in mood. Marianne smiled.

“Ah there it is…” She hummed, “Something real”.

“You don’t even understand the position I have you in right now,” Roland leaned forward and tapped the tabletop viciously, “I hold all the chips here, not you… so I’d show some goddamn appreciation that I don’t have you jailed and absolved of all duties, sisterly or otherwise”.

The subtext of the threat sent an angry shiver down Bogue’s spine. He wasn’t at all surprised when Marianne stood beside him and launched herself at Roland, her entire torso hoisted atop the table sending dishes flying off the edge. She grabbed Roland by the strap of his sling and yanked hard.

The man cried out and winced from the pain of his broken limb being jerked.

“If you hurt one single hair on her head, I will have you castrated,” She warned through gritted teeth, “ And then I’ll shove them so far down your throat, every time you cough you’ll have the opportunity to meet a few more of your prospective children!”

“Woah,” Roland laughed despite leaning away from her with wide eyes, “take it easy now”.

“You threaten my town, county, and my sister!” She gripped him harder, wrenching her hand, “Why the hell should I?”

“Because, darlin’, I have a gun trained to the perfect gut shot on that beast of a man you’ve been hauling around,” He stated, looking her square in the eye.

Bogue moved to look, but stopped when he heard the distinctive click of a pistol hammer being cocked into place. He froze as Marianne looked down quickly to confirm the weapon, her own eyes widening.

She narrowed them again, “You wouldn’t”.

“And you’re willing to test that?” He said and then sighed, “Well, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a relief. I seriously misinterpreted whatever it was you guys got going on… I guess you won’t mind when I get rid of him-”

She let go of Roland and sunk back in her seat, still glaring ahead of her.

“Well now,” Roland looked between the two, “isn’t that interesting”.

“What do you WANT?” Bogue demanded, unsure where the gun was now pointing.

“The same thing that you probably do: Marianne,” Roland smirked, “Though what sort of delusional thinking led you to think you are anywhere near that league is beyond me…”

“Roland, if you fire in here, you’ll hurt civilians too,” Marianne stated.

He raised an eyebrow with a sardonic smile, “Really? All the accusations you’ve thrown at me and you believe that will sway me?”

She didn’t answer.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” He explained, “You’re gonna be coming with me, little lady. Nobody has to get hurt, I let your federal cockroach here scuttle off to whatever crevice he crawled out of and Dawn will wake up and live a long, happy life”.

“You brought Merle”.

“A necessary bit to open the way to a satisfactory end,” He nodded, “He will need to arrest you-”

“No.” Bogue barked. 

Roland peered at him and continued, “But I will drop the charges”.

“Why?” Marianne asked. Bogue started to feel dizzy, like the room was simultaneously getting hotter and smaller. The stress of the situation must be weighing heavier than he figured.

“Because I need you,” He said in a sickening sort of sincerity, “I need you to clean up this mess you made, step down and marry me”.

She laughed, “Go to hell”.

“I can wait,” he said, sitting back confidently. Bogue’s vision of him was starting to become blurry.

“Can you? All you have is a gun and the threat of…” She swayed a little bit, bumping into Bogue. He turned to look at her, and instead felt his muscles give. He fell forward, his limbs feeling like jelly, like all of his bones had been removed from his body. A strange euphoria mixed with the dread he suddenly felt, his last vision being Marianne collapsing beside him.

“Oh, I have much, much more…” Roland’s voice sounded so far off. 

And then, everything went black.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

If they could be called dreams, Marianne wasn’t sure, but she saw visions of recent memories. They played for her soundlessly and far off, as if she were viewing everything from a telescope a mile down the road.

Laughing with Dawn and Sunny on a movie night, hugging her father after assuring him he need not worry for her, running her station on a quiet day, Shelby bringing coffee for everyone…

She saw Bog, tall, lanky and entirely too alluring for her intentions. Standing toe to toe with him, working scenes together, questioning witnesses… The look on his face when Marianne commented that he was thumbing thong dollars at a strip club, the ease with which he assessed the homicide scene of the slain trucker, how gentle he had been towards Sacha, The way he returned that first ill-fated kiss at the station…

Their inappropriate scene at his hotel room, steamy and wild, his hot breath washing over her, the delicious sting of his teeth sinking in as he gripped her tight. He held her so tenderly after that, she could not remember why she had not chosen to savor it. He held her again, later that night, after she had asserted that it was all a mistake.

Every shared glance, every bubbling feeling, the rush of being near him, the comfort of knowing he was there for her.

It was all a blur there at the end. As she was coming out of the induced slumber, she felt them all fall away, sinking her heart down into her chest again.

It did not matter in the next moment, though, because she realized that she could not move a single muscle.

She could feel the cold, hard ground gritting into the side of her face, but she could barely open her eyes. She heard the sharp howl of wind through a crack somewhere above and the hard beating of heavy rain. The weather was further confirmed when thunder cracked loud all around her.

She felt a chill, which was perhaps the most unusual trait so far for the mid-summer desert.

If that was where she still was.

Her mind went blank again. When her consciousness returned, her eyes could open this time. She saw concrete and a drain, which gurgled in front of her. Based on the fact that it was raining more rapidly now, she figured it connected to the storm gutters of this place.

There was chainlink just beyond, stretched between two brick walls that were her enclosure.

She flexed her fingers and was relieved when they actually moved. She moved to her toes, wiggling all her digits until there was an adequate amount of power and feeling. She moved up to her wrists and ankles, and then legs and arms. Her neck was much harder when she got to it and trying to lift her head up with her shoulders only led her to smack it back down to the concrete floor.

Eventually, she was able to wiggle from her side to her stomach and prop herself up on her elbows.

Her feet clanked as she did so. Rubbing them together revealed that she was chained to something. She wasn’t sure how she missed it when she was encouraging her ankles to move.

She squinted her eyes around the enclosure, trying to make out finer details through her blurred vision.

She felt okay. Calm, even. At peace. No pain.

She started to realize how odd that was. She had been asleep on concrete, surely something should be hurting. Furthermore, she had no idea where she was or why she was tied up.

She tried to remember the series of events prior to being unconscious… she drummed up an image of Roland’s self-satisfied face.

“That bastard…” she managed to huff out the words as she slowly lifted herself up to a sitting position on her hip. She fell back despite her best efforts and her back connected with another wall.

That makes a whole box, she thought, lovely. She looked up, noting the metal rafters and roof, a lamp hanging down with a dim yellow light. This was a bit unusual.

A flash of light illuminated her makeshift cell, followed closely by a louder crack and rumble. The wind howled above and she felt it tickling her skin as it swept down from the apparently open rafters.

Curious, she finally thought to look down at herself.

She was clad only in underwear and her body was smeared with mud and blood. She held up her hands and noted the thick coating of blood, both old and new. More dripped into her open palms, she realized it was from her face. She wiped at her cheeks and mouth, coming away with a fresh fistfull.

It registered that she would likely be feeling a great deal of pain once the anesthetic qualities of the drug she was given had worn off.

“Probably Love Potion…” she sighed, letting her head rest on the wall once more.

She closed her eyes for a moment and saw Bog falling onto the table beside her.

“No!” Her eyes shot open and she started around her, sinking forward on her hands in desperation, “Bog? Bog! Oh no… Bog!” 

She shuffled along the floor, looking for him as her eyes grew more accustomed to the scene. What had happened to him after that? Was he being held like her? Was he okay?

She wasn’t awake to protect him and Roland was already threatening the man’s life.

“Oh God…” Marianne’s tears suddenly stang as they drifted down her face, “Where are you? Bog!”

“Ma...Mari?”

The voice was small, but familiar.

“ils vous ont…”

“S… Sacha?” Marianne hurried to the fence on her hands and knees until her chains yanked her back. She could just reach the fence and grasped it tight, looking ahead of her. She could see now that there was an aisle and, just across, a stall that mirrored her own. Sacha clung to the fence, like a mirror image of Marianne, desperately looking into her face. 

“Oh Sacha,” Marianne’s heart sank as she saw the new, fresh gash oozing blood across the naked breasts of the poor girl, “I’m so sorry, I said you’d be safe…”

The girl did not understand what she said, but she must have caught on, because she shook her head, her own eyes filling up with tears.

“Ce sont des gens cruels…” She opened her palm, pressing it to the fence like some show of solidarity.

Marianne raised her own. They had her again. Marianne would give anything just to get her out, even her own life. 

Because this just wasn’t fair. To be rescued and then taken again was just too atrocious a fate.

“Finally awake, I see,” A light above the breezeway lit, illuminating the area as a man’s laughing voice echoed towards them. It was joined by two more.

It wasn’t a surprise to Marianne when the three Daymond brothers sauntered into view, but Sacha scooted back into the shadows of her cell, clearly terrified. They kept their focus on Marianne, though, staring down at her with jeering smiles.

“Hello Sheriff,” One of them said darkly.

“Nice of you to visit your old deputies”.

“Hope you don’t mind it’s on the other side of the bars”.

“...it’s a fence…” Marianne said in a weak voice, not looking at the men, but at the far wall of Sacha’s cell.

“What was that?”

“I said, it’s a fence!” She repeated, her voice breaking as she noted the small metal door at the bottom of the wall steadily leaking water in.

“And?”

“It’s not bars,” she looked back at the wall of her own stall, another metal door, “It’s a chain-link fence. And this is the old animal control facility in the foothills”.

She chanced a look up at them. Their eyes were wide. Good, that meant they didn’t know she knew of their use of this place before. So they would not know that Bog knew. At least there was that.

One of them nodded at another, who procured a long stick with a prong on the end. Before she could react, he stuck it onto the fence and a shock coursed up both hands and to her arms. 

“Ah!” Her muscles seized and she could not let go as quickly as she wanted to. Her palms burned excruciatingly by the time she finally fell away to the floor once more. 

Ever nerve lit with agony, she suddenly felt the misplaced limbs, the broken ribs, the battered face, and open gashed on her back. She felt it all as she continued to seize and twitch. It was a blinding blaze of pain and torture for she had no idea how long.

When she gained some sense back, she only heard them laughing as they walked away.

“Ow…” she cringed on her side into a fetal position, crying through the waves of both sharp and dull torment.

With everything she had, she prayed for her family’s safety, she pleaded for Bog to be alive and well, that he would come save Sacha and her.

She prayed that she might see him, just one more time, before she succumbed to this torture.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bogue woke with a start, sitting straight up in what he instantly knew to be a hospital bed. He looked wildly around him, searching for an explanation for how he came to be here. The place was dark, the curtains open to show rain beating against the window. The lights were off.

The last he remembered, he was passing out under the influence of something strong but imperceptible. Marianne had collapsed beside him.

“Marianne…” He turned to swing his legs off the bed, but his arm caught on something. He looked to his wrist to find he had been handcuffed to the rail.

“Shit,” He examined it, trying to come up with a plan to free himself.

“Boggy?” A light, airy voice called out from the chair in the corner of the room. There was an IV and rack standing beside it and a bundle of blanket on the seat suddenly shifted. A blonde head poked out and he soon found wide blue eyes staring at him.

“Are you… Dawn?”

She nodded and started untangling herself from the blanket, making her way to her feet.

“You’re awake? How…” He watched her get up and start walking to him, dragging her IV bag along with her, “How long have I been out?”

“Three days,” She answered, making it to the side of his bed.

“Three!?” He yanked on his cuff again reflexively, “What happened? Where’s Marianne?”

She blinked at him, eyes round and sad, “I was… I was hoping you could tell me that”.

“What?”

Dawn looked down, her eyes welling, “You were with her and… and they took her. They took my sister”.

He thought back to before he passed out, Roland sitting across from them, “Who?”

“The same people who took me,” She cried, “I don’t know where they took her. It’s been three days!”

Anything could have happened in all that time, and he had been unconscious and chained to the hospital bed. His whole body washed over with a sick, heavy feeling. Anything could have happened to Marianne.

“Who is in charge of the investigation?” He asked, doing the only thing he knew he could do in this instant: investigate.

“The FBI swept through. There have been a few arrests. A bunch of drugs seized… still no Marianne”.

“And the other girls?”

Dawn only shook her head.

“Shit…” Bogue looked back down at his hands, “I need out of here, why am I being held?”

“They found photos on you…” She said quietly.

He suddenly remembered the pictures he had taken from the strip club and he groaned, rubbing his brow, “stupid…never should have taken those…”

“They keep checking in. They really want to talk to you”.

“I imagine so,” he sighed, “But I need to go. I need to find your sister”.

“How?” She looked up at him.

“I don’t know yet, I just have to try,” he explained, yanking once more on his restraints.

Dawn sighed and turned her head away, clearly disappointed that he was of no use in this situation. Bogue studied her crestfallen face, wondering how long she had been in his room. She was as desperate as he to get Marianne back, but being a civilian in this situation and not privy to the investigation was probably much more frustrating.

“Hey, go get them,” He instructed.

“What?”

“They have someone stationed outside of my room, right? I need to speak with a FBI agent. If they question me, I might be able to get information off of them,” he explained, “And then maybe we can both get some answers”.

“Oh,” she smiled slightly, “okay”.

She went to the door, and stuck her head out, saying a few words. When she turned back around, a man hurried in after her. Bogue recognized him as Special Agent Baylor.

“It’s about time,” the man said, crossing his arms as he stopped beside the bed, “You got a lot of questions to answer”.

Bogue’s eyes narrowed at him, “You were there. At the cafe, you were there”.

“Yes and you’re welcome. Had we not been there, they would have made off with you too”.

“How did they take Marianne if you were there?” Bogue sat forward and asked accusingly. Dawn looked nervously between the two.

He simply shook his head, “Slipped out the back. We got an APB on the vehicle, but it turned up in a wash after the last rain. Greeley is still at large”.

“And what are you doing now?”

“Oh we are putting forth all our resources to find the Sheriff. Believe me, we have plenty at stake on this one…” Baylor shrugged, “But right now, we need to know what you know”.

“Fine,” Bogue agreed, “Just let me out of these cuffs and let me find Marianne”.

“No can do,” Baylor said with another shake of his head.

“Why the hell not?”

“We have you in custody right now for interfering with a federal investigation. You ran amuck in this county AGAINST the orders of your command and country. You STOLE evidence”.

“I did what I needed, to do the job that nobody else was doing,” Bogue seethed.

“Regardless, you will give us the information we need”.

“I already agreed-”

“And you will return to your country promptly thereafter, where they will deal with you how they please”.

Bogue snarled at the man, fully intending to say no, until he noticed Dawn. She stared at him pleadingly, fear evident in her features. He could not hinder this investigation, he knew that. It was currently the only shot they had at finding Marianne. And if the FBI were able to work out what was going on here and save as many as they could, he would do everything in his power to ensure it happened.

Especially if it meant safety for the one he loved.

“Okay,” he said with a resigned sigh, “Just tell me what you need”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all hitting the fan now.
> 
> Next time: Dawn+Boggy= Buddies for life!  
>  Or something to that effect.  
>  Peeps be PISSED at Sunny.  
>  Marianne is not fitting the bill of damsel in distress.  
>  Bog is doomed... one way or another.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
>  This chapter contains dark themes and scenarios, up to and including physical violence, sex trafficking, drugging, and sexual assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... THIS took a while. But the floodgates of brain babbles have reopened and hopefully that means more writing and less hating myself.

It became a routine of sorts: wake up to screaming, listen to screaming girl get beat until she stopped (they could have just re-dosed her, but she supposed that would have been less fun for them), get mocked through the fence, remember how hungry she still was…

But then she could talk to Sacha and ensure that she was okay. Not that she could understand what she was saying... They had yet to re-drug Marianne, but Sacha was dosed daily. Of course, she was also fed, so…

Marianne was lucid enough to absorb some of the details around her, but, in her state, it was all starting to get fuzzy anyway. 

Her wounds still hurt beyond belief, but the open ones were decently scabbed at the very least. 

Emotionally, she knew she couldn’t be trusted to align herself with the reality of her situation. Nothing could be trusted. 

Mentally, she was both irked and surprised that the thing driving her most mad was the itch under her ankle cuffs. Famine, rage, and agony be damned, that irritation would be addressed first and foremost were she given the opportunity.

It had been three days since she woke up in this place, and nobody had come for her. She concocted the worst of scenarios in her mind, most revolving around the idea that Bog had died. That the entire county was now in the grips of corruption. That everything she loved was in grave danger.

The agony of those thoughts kind of kept her going. She was burning with the desire to slaughter all of those responsible.

But again, the itch crept to the forefront of her mind at each string of consciousness.

So pervasive was that need that, when confronted with the possibility of being moved, the only thought to bubble up was the bright and shining realization that they would need to remove her restraints to do so.

Instead of unleashing her rage, or investing thought into the frightening implications of her relocation, she felt only relief when they came into her cage with keys and sadistic smiles.

Briefly, as they unlatched her and laughed as she made quick work of the infernal itch, she felt gratitude towards her captors. 

“Tha-...” she stopped, her hands pausing as dread flooded, cold and stinging in her chest. Was she really about to thank them? It was there, in her mind, the compulsion to be agreeable in the face of such violent hosts.

She looked up between the triplets, suddenly suspicious to see them all there at once. The idea flashed through her to take them all on, but was quickly overshadowed by the likelihood of her becoming further incapacitated.

“What is this?” she elected to ask beneath their lecherous eyes.

“Time to get going”.

“Today’s the day”.

“For your big debut”.

Had she anything left in her gut, she’s sure the sinking of it would have elicited expulsion of any such material.

Nothing could be trusted.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

“How about today?”

“No”.

“Jeez, Boggy-”

“Bogue”.

“- c’mon, it’s not like they’re getting anything done”.

“Hm”.

“And I know my way around this place. We can blow this joint and go find her”.

“As fugitives… and then what? I bust a huge ring with a high school kid in tow? That’ll end well…”

“I technically graduate this week… and we can’t just do nothing anymore!”

Bogue looked up from the newspaper finally. He had been reading about the FBI’s raid on the animal control facility. The article glossed over the details, but made clear that nothing was recovered but evidence the night before. While it was promising that they would obtain more leads, it was severely disheartening to know the girls had been moved and they missed their best chance.

To Bogue, it was unforgivable. In his gut, he knew Marianne had been there, that victims had filtered through for who knows how long. If they had only moved quicker. If HE had only moved quicker… had Marianne stuck to the original plan, she would not have even been taken.

When he took into account the murder scene the morning of her abduction and the ploy to get her to the cafe, it all lined up in his mind that none of this was a coincidence.

From his hospital bed spectator’s spot, it was positively infuriating and painful.

Somehow, the decision had been made to keep Bogue around longer, though he was getting discharged today. It had been almost a week.

No Marianne. He was rotting away inside, all the good and substantial pieces of himself crumbling away with the tiny bit of hope he had managed to keep for this long.

Dawn was just as desperate as he, yet much more alive. She sat cross-legged at the end of his bed in shorts and a long, flowy shirt. She had been out of the hospital for a couple of days now. He could hardly understand what would possess her to come back, much less spend every day in his room. She could have been home, consoling her bereaved father.

For some misplaced reason, she thought him the best chance at finding her sister. He hoped she did not sink all her hope into that idea.

“You know,” He sat back, locking his gaze onto her angry, sad blue eyes, “Since the FBI intervened and their trafficking unit started working, they’ve done so much more than Marianne could get anyone to do…”

“That’s not fair-”

“I know,” He said, “But it’s true. She was left nearly powerless by the people around her… but now there are people here to help, everybody believes her, finally. They are working towards what she wanted”.

“WANTS,” Dawn warned, glaring, “Don’t you dare start talking like she’s not still fighting for this…”

“I didn’t mean…” Bogue sighed, looking out the window, “Nevermind”.

“Boggy, I’m gonna keep asking until you do something, you know that, right?”

“I know,” He said as the door to the room opened.

Baylor walked in, every bit as falsely confident as the first time. Over the course of the week, it became increasingly obvious just how far behind the agents felt in their investigation.

“You know?” He asked, stopping short at Bogue’s glare.

“Where next?” Bogue asked, ignoring the question.

“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us,” Baylor sighed.

“And how the hell is he suppose to figure something like that out cuffed to a hospital bed?” Dawn demanded, sitting upright.

“Dawn…” Bogue warned.

“Miss Fairman, perhaps you can step outside for this?”

“Perhaps I can, but perhaps I won’t”.

“Dawn,” Bogue said a little louder, but locked eyes with the small girl reassuringly, “It’s okay. Why don’t you go get some tea?”

She raised an eyebrow at him before rolling her eyes and flinging her legs off the side of the bed.

“Fine,” she conceded, jumping down, “But I’m not gonna knock coming back in”.

Baylor watched her leave with a tired look. The door all but slammed behind her.

“What did you find?” Bogue asked as Baylor came to stand at the foot of his bed.

“A message, for you, we believe,” He looked away, but offered a tablet in front of Bogue’s face.

He took it in his hand and stared down at the screen. It was a picture, obviously from the animal control facility, it focussed on one of the filthy walls. A photograph was stabbed into it harshly with black marker written beneath reading:

‘She’s MINE’.

The photo revealed the flesh of a bare shoulder, marred with dirt and what looked to be dried blood. The crest of the collar, however, was adorned with a healing wound all too familiar to Bogue. It was his bite mark, after all.

He swallowed, feeling the all-too-familiar sting of bile at the back of his throat, “I don’t understand”.

“It seems Greeley is threatened… and we believe it’s by you” Baylor explained.

“How? He has her, I’m stuck in here,” It hurt just to say it out loud.

“Yes, but we are under the impression that she is still struggling against him… and we believe he might blame you”.

“That’s crazy…” He responded, “Though fully within the scope of this particular criminal’s behavior”.

“Exactly,” Baylor withdrew the tablet, “Which is precisely why we can use this to try and draw him out, or at least make him slip up”.

It took a moment, “You want to use me to piss off Greeley?”

“In a sense, yes,” Baylor shifted. 

“And,” Bogue smirked, “for that, you need me back on this case”.

Baylor sighed instead of responding, “So, where would they be moving the girls to?”

“If I had been allowed this last week to work, maybe I’d have an answer for that”.

“Don’t get cocky, I wouldn’t even need you if you hadn’t fucked up this case in the first place,” Baylor spat, “They’ve abandoned their movements at the motel, vacated the animal facility, the strip club is cleared and closed…”

“Wait, who is pulling surveillance on the club?”

“We’ve had to leave it to the reservation police department… but with the owner in custody, it’s not been a high priority”.

Bogue thought for a moment, going over the series of events that had transpired the last time he was there with Marianne.

“Can you get me back there?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

For a second, Marianne felt unbelievably lucky.

They had taken her and Sacha with a couple of other girls and threw them into a van. They sat there with dark faces as the vehicle bumped along. Only Marianne remained tied up and gagged. She supposed the other girls were too scared to move at this point, but her captors held no trust that she wouldn’t try anything.

Her stroke of luck came when, after a long drive, she supposed about two hours, the van slowed to a stop and some words were exchanged outside, followed by the scraping of a large gate. The van moved again for just a moment more before pulling to a stop, where the engine finally cut off.

From there, they were ushered out of the car into a large garage, Marianne being pulled and shoved as the other girls filed dejectedly. The were moved through a door and suddenly found themselves in a large, luxurious looking kitchen.

It seemed so absurd compared to the last week and the state Marianne had found herself in, clad in a large shirt covering scabs and bruises, her feet bare.

Her first thought seemed to be conveyed in the glances between the other girls: they had been sold.

In a whirlwind of commotion, several men and a woman came in and separated them. Marianne was pulled up some stairs and through an extravagant hallway by two of the “guards” and was followed closely by the woman. She was pushed through a door, which led to a large room. That was when she realized this was a hotel of some sort.

Her stroke of luck came when she was cut loose from her ties and ungagged while being shoved into the bathroom and ordered to clean up. Her heart sped at the chance and she quickly scanned the room.

Large though the bathroom was, with a huge tub, separate shower, and double marble sink top, there was no window or secondary door. Furthermore, she could hear the men talking to the woman still in the room.

She resigned herself to taking advantage of the situation and washing off. She tore off the awful shirt and peeled the crusty undergarments off, flinging them away from her before going to the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw a horrifying ghost of who she had been. Her eyes and cheeks were gaunt, the life drained from her every cell.

She suddenly doubted her ability to make her escape, even given ample opportunity and resources. 

With a shaky breath, she made her way to the shower and turned it on, making it as hot as she could possibly stand. She was hasty in washing herself off, scrubbing her skin practically raw with the expensive soaps and watching as the dirt and blood ran down the drain.

It took a little while, but the water eventually ran clear and she began to feel a bit more human. It was a huge relief.

That was the small moment, stepping out of the shower into the steamy room, wrapping herself in a soft cotton towel, and then patting her skin dry, that she felt an immense gratitude for this long withheld staple.

She even went so far as to indulge her neglected skin with some pleasant smelling moisturizer that was set out on the sink. She smoothed it over her legs first and then moved up her arms and to her shoulders.

Her hand stilled over the familiar yet healing mark over her collar. It was smoothed over considerably, the scabbing gone. She turned and stared at it in the mirror, obscured by the streaked fog surface, she could still discern the pink scars mapping the outline of the bite, bruising toned down to a light tan-green.

She chuckled, an ethereal sound chiming off the walls with a muted echo. She caressed the outline of the scar, her heart light in her chest thinking of how silly it all seemed now. The memories of Bog and the undeniable pull between them seemed so much less confusing now. She yearned for it, for him, if only just to be held and to hold in return.

All of that seemed like worlds away from her current reality.

Her smile fell as her eyes welled up. She let her hand fall away too as she sat back against the counter, legs shaking.

She didn’t care how. Even if it killed her, she had to keep trying to get out of here. She had to stop these people.

She wiped at her eyes and stood resolutely.

She looked to where she had thrown her “clothes”, they were conspicuously absent. She listened for a moment at the door and, hearing nothing, ventured to open it. She cracked it a bit, bracing for a bombardment of some sort from her captors. When nothing happened, she stuck her head out.

“Come, get dressed,” The woman sitting on the bed nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Steadying herself, Marianne stepped through the doorway, holding the towel to her and looking around to find they were alone.

“Where am I?” She demanded, turning back to the dark haired woman who now stood and was approaching her.

“Get dressed,” The woman ordered again, gesturing to the dresser beside her.

Marianne eyed the red folded cloth, though she was irritated at her lack of answer. She would prefer to be dressed when making an escape, so she may as well play it cool for just a little while. At full health, Marianne was certain she could take the woman in a fight, though she was a bit taller than her. At the moment, she felt renewed, but she knew adrenaline could only take her deprived body so far.

“You will be late for dinner,” The woman continued, revealing a hint of an accent of some kind.

Oh yeah, Marianne thought, food. Dog food sounded good right now, any human food would be heavenly… and honestly that bed looked extremely inviting over the cement floor she had slept on the last week.

She knew to wish for all of that would be too good, she knew there were only dark things in store for her… but her very basic and essential human needs were loudly threatening to betray her.

She cautiously stepped to the dresser and lifted the item off, letting it unfold in front of her, the deep red shimmering at the movement.

“An evening gown?”

“You will be having company,” The woman explained, and motioned for her to hurry.

Marianne’s blood ran cold. Of course. She could not let herself forget what all these women were being used for. What she was at risk for being subject to. She eyed the room, considering the large sliding doors that led to the balcony.

A hand clasped over her arm, squeezing until she was sure it would bruise.

“Dress,” The woman growled next to her ear and then, in one quick motion, clasped a hand over Marianne’s nose and mouth.

Marianne gasped, realizing the mistake of doing so almost immediately as she felt herself inhale a burning powder.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He was missing time. The week in the hospital could have been a year for how it felt to be out in the field again. It was almost foreign, and the sudden trust in him felt suspicious. But they let him free, they gave him back his notes, even reissued him his gun. He was, by all accounts, back in the game.

And yet, running these roads, retracing the steps taken what felt like a lifetime ago, without her… It was wrenching, painful, oddly nostalgic. Every step made him recall that she was gone and her captors ten steps ahead of them. Each move he made solidified the probabilities and images in his head.

As a detective, as a special agent, as a person with a decade plus of experience in cases just like this, he knew what he should think and how he should move from here. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

They were known to ship internationally, they were known to dispose of their problems quickly, they had the ability to move fast…

But that one picture, that singular taunt, had unwittingly granted him a glimmer of hope. So he would discard his best judgement and trudge on. He could not rest until she was safe. And if he was too late… well, he may never rest again.

Bogue kicked at some shards of glass on the dusty floor of the seemingly abandoned strip club. The place looked even more trashed than the last time, even one of the front windows had been smashed from the outside.

Instinct told him it wasn’t just law enforcement that had rifled through this place. He hoped it would still be there…

“Not sure what you expect to find here, looks like it’s picked clean,” Hayes said behind him. He and Baylor were, unfortunately, his assigned guardians during this whole ordeal.

Bogue moved to the bar, positioning himself between two stationary stools and ran his hands under the lip of the counter in front of him, “Hopefully not too clean…”

He moved to the next set of seats and repeated the action.

“You’re looking for a bug,” Hayes realized out loud.

“Yes”.

“You know it’s inadmissible without a warrant”.

“I am aware,” Bogue replied, leaning to feel beneath the last stretch of counter, “I don’t need to build a case right now, though. I just need to find these bastards”.

His hand hit a smooth, round, metallic lump and he let out a sigh of relief as he started to unscrew the tiny device.

“I would think, working for federal government, you would be more than familiar with the method of finding evidence twice,” Bogue stated as he stood, the small listening device in hand, “First for the victims, second for the courts”.

Hayes blew out a hard breath, but didn’t argue.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marianne ‘came to’ in the most sublime sense imaginable. It was bliss. Wildly unnerving bliss.

There was soft glow about everything, accentuating the drug-induced euphoria. She was sitting someplace, her hands resting in her lap.

Is this a dream, she kept asking herself, over and over. It felt like a dream.

And then there was food.

It was the greatest meal she had ever had. She could not eat it fast enough. Literally, she could not get her limbs to move as quickly as her brain was telling them to.

Somebody was talking to her from across the table, she could only nod. This felt like paradise, from the water in her hand to the luxurious feeling dress. How would anything be wrong?

The place was humming when her dinner companion stood and pulled the chair out for her, she became aware that they were dining around others.

“Let me take you to your room,” Her companion whispered in her ear, holding her arm and hand and guiding her to stand. She nodded, loving the sound of collapsing on a big fluffy bed and sleeping for a year.

The grip on her was firm, but nice, like everything else. It guided her steadily as she had no idea where to go or how to orient herself. She hoped she did not wobble as she walked, because it felt like she was floating.

Then they were in an elevator. She leaned back against the rail as hands travelled all over her, a body pressing into hers. She did not care, she had sleep waiting.

Then they were in the beautiful room, the moon hanging on the rail outside the balcony doors. The room door clicked and she fell. It felt like falling from the top of a skyscraper, the bottom of her stomach dropping in a fluttery fashion. After a moment, she was aware of her face pressing into the soft duvet of the bed. A hand was pushing down on her shoulders, while another began pushing her full-length skirt up. She enjoyed the feel of the silk on her skin, but something about the hands on her felt weird.

She just wanted to get comfortable and sleep. She crawled forward on the bed, looking for the pillows, flipping over when she found them.

“Just do as I say, for once”.

The hands yanked on the front of her dress and fondled her before practically tearing the article all the way down to her toes. Cool air hit her bare skin for a moment, but then the hands came back.

A body was pressing into her, soon it was bare skin on her own. She just wanted to sleep. She finally looked to her companion, trying to distinguish features through the foggy haze.

Green eyes. Blonde hair. A cast scratching against her abdomen as his hand moved.

And then she heard it, the clinking chime of a belt being hastily undone. 

She realized she was naked. She realized this man was between her legs. She felt powerless to stop it.

“Wait,” she pled breathlessly.

“I’ve waited far too long for this, babycakes”.

Roland.

“Besides, not like this is anything new…”

Her heart flipped sickeningly. Amidst the sweet, blissful cloud of the drugs, doom cut through with a lurch. 

“No…”

“If you just cooperate, you can have everything. You clear my name, we start an empire… I promise you will never be treated the way they treated you this week,” He explained, “It was all a misunderstanding, really… you’re not like those whores, you don’t belong caged like that”.

She struggled to move, but his hand came up to pin her wrists above her head.

“I will take care of you”.

His other hand was fondling her, prodding her. He leaned forward and covered his mouth with his, slimy and aggressive, his slug-like tongue forcing it’s way into her mouth. She let out a sob, trying to use her legs to lift away from his touch. They were just so weak. She tried to hook one between her and this disgusting brute.

“Seems like you don’t want to wait either,” He misinterpreted it so thoroughly, she felt it had to be deliberate.

And yet, his grip on her wrists left as he turned his attention back to undoing his pants. Maybe he was that stupid.

She thought to push him, but knew it to be futile, so she looked around for anything other than cloth to grab. The nightstand was just outside of arm’s reach, but there was a clock, a phone, and a lamp.

She dove for the side of the bed, maybe getting a good foot away.

“Woahoho, easy there,” He laughed, grabbing her by the hips and repositioning her to him. 

Still closer to the nightstand, she sought to take his attention southward once more. So, to her utmost internal disgust, she arched her back, pressing her hips into his. She wanted to throw up, but it worked. With a broad smile, he hurriedly unbuttoned his trouser.

She reached towards the nightstand, feeling her way past its edge as she kept a steady eye on Roland. He rocked back, removing his pants determinedly as her fingers traced their way to a hard, blocky object. He was quick and already making his way back to positioning between her legs. The object would have to do.

He sunk forward, his mouth on the skin of her dwindled abs, working its way up. She grasped the object and begged for strength. As his hands squeezed over her hips, she swung with all her might, concentrating all the will and ability she had on driving that force right into his deplorable skull.

The lamp was heavy, but she swung it faster than he could react. It made contact with a loud crack and her arm collapsed to bed once more.

The lamp tumbled to the ground just as Roland’s naked body collapsed on top of her.

Oh God, she thought, what had just happened?

Her limbs began to shake as his unconscious filthy body became unbearable to stay in contact with. She was stuck, she couldn’t wiggle free. His head was bleeding, dripping down onto her rapidly rising chest as she gasped for breath.

The veil of the Love Potion was almost gone now, replaced by the terror of what had just happened. She needed out, she needed free. She gave push after ineffectual push with every one of her limbs, trying to work her way out from under him as her breath grew more ragged, shrill sobs punctuating every effort.

And then he groaned.

Her blood turned to jagged ice as she watched him pick up his head and look at her. He glared, blinked, and then sat straight up.

She scurried to the opposite side of the bed as he pressed his hand into the wound on his head. It came away covered in blood.

“Well,” He gnarled through gritted teeth, “I guess you want to do this the hard way”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. the last scene was hard to write. I mean that both ways, really. I wanted to portray Marianne's POV having been drugged as well as possible, letting the details build as the effects started to wear off, as well as showing certain events giving her a bit of adrenaline to push through the high...  
>  And, of course, the content was hard. It was kind of personal... so much so that I was thankful to the drugging device in the plot, so I wouldn't have to go into as much detail about what was happening. The emotion of it was still there for me, though. Impotence, futility, fear...  
> *sigh*  
>  I suppose we can only brace for a satisfying retribution in coming chapters.... maybe.


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This chapter contains dark themes and scenarios, up to and including physical violence, sex trafficking, drugging, and sexual assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee...
> 
> It's sure been a minute. I'm half done with the next chapter, so you have my word it will not take 7 months.
> 
> That said, I'm sorry about this chapter. It was a hard call to make some of these plot decisions, but I stuck with what made the most sense given the context and whatnot...
> 
> Anyhow, the warnings are right up there. You cool to continue? Alright, let us do the thing...

The room was cold and still. It almost seemed like he was someplace else. No longer in the unforgiving desert, wading through the daily chaos, running for answers. No, now he was just sitting for them and listening….and sitting and listening and sitting and waitinglisteningwaiting.

Bogue could very easily go mad here, perfectly still with headphones over his ears, straining to hear at every hint of a footstep. The bug he had retrieved recorded almost four days worth of sound. Luckily, he didn’t have to sit through every moment of it. They could isolate signatures of sound and choose to listen to bits of recording above only a certain decibel. It was still hours of recordings, however, and included a thunderstorm in its entirety thus far. 

So much time was ticking by as he waited through everything from the storm to an odd ticking and rustling that he deduced was some sort of canine that made it through the broken window.

She was slipping further away and he was just sitting in an air-conditioned room, going crazy.

But then glass crunched under what he knew was a boot, followed by a scrape and second crunch, sharp and stabbing into his brain. His interest piqued, he leaned into the sound and willed for some valuable nugget to lead him back to her.

There was movement and rustling and grunts of displeasure, briefly broken apart by a low and angry “where the fuck-”. 

And then it stopped and one man said to another “Hey, over here.”

The secondary set of footsteps moved to join him with a satisfied huff, “Can’t believe this is still here. That dumbass Nicky went way overboard with the supply, man…”

“It’s a wonder any is left at all… but hey, they took the photos. You think that was enough to pin Jerry?”

“Fuck if that matters now, Roland really screwed the pooch when he took the Sheriff”.

“Well, as long as they’re just looking for him…”

“Don’t get comfortable, this county is crawling with Feds now… time to relocate”.

A shiver ran up Bogue’s spine at the thought of all the suspects fleeing days ahead of their investigation.

“I guess this’ll have to do, let’s get back. The foreman’s gonna be pissed as it is without us being late”.

“Alright…”

As the video trailed off into sounds of their shuffling exit, Bogue quickly jotted down everything he had heard. Nicky was the strip club’s night manager, he remembered from the last time they spoke with Mal. He would have to track her down again to get more information. He framed Jerry, so he was probably responsible for any other involvement the club had with the trafficking operations. Something else was bothering Bogue, though... 

“Foreman…” he mouthed, racking his brain for any association with the word. It was a word for a supervisor, most usually in construction. There was something Marianne had said…

He flipped back in his notepad, weeks worth of observations littering each page, until he got nearly to the front.

“Of course!” He stood and discarded the headphones quickly. He had recorded everything from the first day of investigating alongside the sheriff, including the details of the business card she had stolen from Mal’s things that she was sure would lead them to at least a dealer.

It was shoddy at best, but, by god, it was a lead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marianne inhaled deep into the pillow she had buried her face in and, lungs full, held her breath. She was trapped, she had lost, and it was her decision. She could take some tiny solace in the fact that, ultimately, it was her decision. Or maybe that just made it worse, she really couldn’t tell.

Because all she truly felt in these moments was dirty and numb. 

He left her alone after, sending only workers with room service and replacement linens. They included a luxury down comforter that she swore was the softest thing she ever felt.

Whether all of this was an apology or a reward for what she had allowed, she wasn’t sure. She would be lying if she said she hated sinking into the bed and sleeping. But waking up in the new reality eclipsed the experience, drawing it into the dark and fucked up events until they seemed just as dirty as she.

If she could do it over, however, nothing would change.

She tried to fight Roland, she really did. And if all of it had been just them, she would have died before letting him touch her like that again. But it wasn’t just them. It was a staff of these terrible people…. And it was Sacha.

That poor girl was dragged into the room after Roland’s mention of doing things the hard way. She looked absolutely terrified to see Marianne in her state of undress, attempting to cling to the reality the Love Potion had stolen. Roland had pulled his pants back on and grabbed something from the pocket. He yanked Sacha by her hair and pressed a knife into her neck, nipping her skin and making her yelp as blood oozed onto the blade.

“Now, I’m gonna make this real simple for you, Marianne,” Roland promised as Sacha cried, “It’s you or her… and I will not be nearly as nice to her”.

Marianne’s heart had flipped in her chest and she opened her mouth to answer, no sound escaping.

“In fact,” Roland continued, “We have no further use for this one… she killed a customer. Probably couldn’t even sell her… as of now, she’s disposable”.

“No,” was all Marianne could demand.

“Nothing to lose… I think I’ll throw her to the dogs when I’m through with her. The guys are always itching for the product. Ten bucks says they fuck her to death before we send her to the Garbage Man”.

“No!” Marianne snapped again, trying to stand, “I’ll do it! I’ll do it, just let her go”

“Oh, darling, I wish I could…” he pulled the knife back and Sacha let out a long, shaking sigh of relief, “But I suppose I could commute her sentence a bit…”

“Please…” she could have choked on the word.

“Now that’s what I love to hear,” He smirked and motioned for the men to take Sacha back out of the room again.

They were alone once more and all Marianne could do was will her mind elsewhere. He pinned her down, though she didn’t resist this time.

“You pull any more of that shit, I will kill that girl myself,” He promised, whispering the threat directly into her ear….

The memory replaying clinched inside her chest, and her esophagus squeezed as her stomach threatened to evacuate its contents. She let out her held breath, long and slow.

He violated her and she let it happen. He erased so much good she had been holding onto, he erased her control, her autonomy. 

Had he erased the memories she held onto with Bog?

She sat up in the bed, her eyes suddenly fixed straight at the dark wall, a heavy determination replacing the nausea in her chest.

No, this would not erase that, because it was nothing like what she had with Bog. It wasn’t even close.

And now that she thought about it, it couldn’t erase who she was or what she was loyal to. She realized that that was truly what Roland was trying to achieve with all this. He was trying to break her, make her complacent. He was of the infuriating preoccupation that she could be controlled by this. That bedding a woman somehow made her his, that forcing himself on her put him in control.

It wasn’t the end, though, he did not win. She did not forfeit herself to him.

But, perhaps, it would behoove her to allow him to think that she had.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was extremely unnerving for Bogue to find out that the construction company listed on the card was currently contracted onto the military base to build additions onto the barracks buildings. He was assured of background checks on all contractors, but this and the string of homicides just outside the perimeter, he believed his skepticism to be reasonable. But who knows, maybe it was just the way of things here...

This country seemed more and more alien to him each day.

Baylor and Hayes escorted him to the company’s office location in the town. Shelby from the Sheriff’s department accompanied them, looking rather sleep-deprived, yet determined.

“So, this was Marianne’s lead?” Shelby asked him when out of earshot of the agents.

“Yeah, one of the first”.

“You never followed up?” She asked as they walked down the dirt lot to the entrance.

“Got a bit busy,” he explained, “the timing of everything”.

She nodded quietly, no doubt piecing the events together, “Well, I got your back”.

“Thanks”.

The agents looked to them impatiently as they caught up at the door.

“We get in here, we ask the questions,” Hayes directed, his hand on the handle, “You two, hang back, observe… snoop if you must. But not a word!”

“You got it,” Shelby answered with only a hint of annoyance with an added mutter “Worse than Reggie…”

Hayes opened the door and they stepped into perfect air conditioning. Immediately, Bogue noted the elegant layout of the office, the walls adorned with art, a waiting area ahead with genuine leather couches and fancy bottled water in a glass-front fridge.

Marianne had said the company was a small business, but this room spoke of anything but. 

“Can I help you?” A receptionist greeted them across the room. Baylor and Hayes made their way over to her with Bogue and Shelby hanging back.

“Yes, we’re looking for your contractor, Richard Floyd, if you would. It’s quite urgent,” Baylor explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, he’s on site at the moment…”

Bogue frowned, but continued to look around. There was a door behind the reception desk, the window on it revealing what appeared to be a workshop. There were a few other doors from the waiting area, one probably a bathroom. Perhaps the others led to offices or a break area.

Shelby coughed, drawing his attention. She nodded to the front door again. He looked to the agents. They were still engaging the receptionist, writing down notes to track the contractor’s whereabouts.

Quietly, he and Shelby made their way back out the door.

“That workshop has an exterior door on the other side of the building, let’s have a look” Shelby offered, “This place has entirely too much money…”

“Agreed”.

They made their way around the building, trudging over loose landscaping rocks, making it impossible to tread quietly. Bogue scanned the walls and noted a very advanced looking security camera.

“Wait, look at this,” he called ahead, eyeing the positioning of the camera.

The sound of gravel shifting and crunching under boots persisted.

“Hey, hold on…” he looked up to tell her to wait again, but she stood next to him still, having already stopped.

Suddenly, a man rounded a corner up ahead and froze as soon as he saw the two. He had a large leather duffel tossed over one shoulder and a blazer half thrown on. His crow’s feet lined eyes widened in recognition one second and he took off at a sprint the next. Before Bogue could even react, Shelby was on him, covering the distance in no time to subdue the man with an arm hold, making him sink to his knees.

Bogue jogged up to help, but was sure she did not need it.

“Mr. Floyd, I presume?” Shelby asked, pulling out her cuffs, “Why are you running? We just wanna talk”.

“Bullshit,” He said, though the desperation was evident in his voice.

Bogue ducked to scoop up the dropped bag and unzipped it. It was filled almost entirely with bills, but a box was sandwiched against the side. Bogue popped the lid open, revealing hundreds of tiny bags of Love Potion.

“No, talking sounds like a pretty good idea for you right now,” Bogue added, setting the bag down.

“Of course,” Shelby smiled and cuffed him, “I could just put you in jail and wait for all of that evidence to pile up after we get our warrants. Oh and the IRS audit, I tell ya, THOSE guys you don’t want to mess with…”

The man looked from the bag to Bogue to Shelby and then to the ground with a thoughtful huff, “I want a deal”.

“Now, that, we can arrange”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When it was confirmed that week that the dead body found on the Culligan farm was that of Doli Nakai, there was a grave shift in the tribal community. The entire reservations seemed to be humming with the shared fear and suspicion for what was happening around them.

Doli was not fully Navajo, but the beliefs still held. The way she was killed and how long it had been before they could actually bury her was a huge issue. She could not be buried properly, so many were sure her spirit would be restless. Given the violence she encountered, it was hard to think there would be any peace. 

Today was her funeral and the tribe was anxious for it to go as perfectly as possible. They procured a young, new horse and loaded all of her belongings onto it, topped with the parcel containing what remained of her body. They trekked as far north as possible, the procession smeared with ash. 

Sunny watched from a far distance, listening as the muted sounds of the ceremony carried on the breeze.

They were in a dangerous position, he could feel it, and this funeral only bode darker times ahead. It was precarious enough, the balance between the border, the town, the reservation, and the Army post. There was not trust, no honor between them. And now it seemed as if a foreign demon was weaving its way through every single facet of the county, poisoning their vision of each other.

Sunny’s people would be haunted by Doli for a long time to come and it would spread into how they related to their neighbors. After everything they had been through and had to fight against, he really couldn’t blame them.

As the ceremony ended and people started making their way down from the hill, Sunny turned to leave.

“Traitor,” someone seethed behind him. He didn’t even bother to turn and see who, just walked away.

“Yeah, run back to your masters with your tail wagging. Tell them everything is just fine over here…”

Sunny sighed and walked a little faster as others murmured behind him, guilt burning into his brain. It really wasn’t like that, he knew, but he realized how bad it looked for him to always be hanging around the Fairmans. To be hopelessly attached to Dawn.

There was so much more for him to feel guilty for, though. Despite his best intentions, he had made things so much worse for the Fairmans. He could never say no to Dawn and she was his main priority in everything. For that, he had gotten her kidnapped and then allowed Roland to take Marianne.

He was almost scared to do anything else, it seemed his actions were doomed to backfire on him.

“Sunny! Oh, Sunny!” The high airy voice was unmistakable. Sunny turned to face Aura Plum as she jogged up to meet him, waving an arm wildly.

“What?” he asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

“I need to talk to you, it’s important,” She stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his arm, her face concerned. 

“About what?” He asked.

“With Marianne… well, gone, I don’t know who to go to with this information. We had an understanding, you see…”

“Plum! What is it?” He prodded.

“I know who was making the Love Potion!”

Sunny blinked at her and then glanced around at the disbursing crowd, many of whom were eyeing them down. Then he looked to the sky and the large billowing clouds on the horizon. It bode for a tumultuous evening.

“Come on,” he turned again and gestured for her to follow, “We can’t talk here”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

Marianne had to keep reminding herself to not try to murder her captors at every turn. She also struggled to make her face as emotionless as possible, though she feared she may explode from the ever-expanding anger.

Playing “nice” and mentally dead turned out to have it perks, however. She saw Sacha and was even allowed to be alone with her for a few moments, which she used to reassure the girl as best she could. She was dragged to what seemed to be Roland’s room at one point and offered all sorts of comforts and luxuries.

She knew what all of this was, of course, she had learned enough in her years working in law enforcement. This was all grooming, a process of conditioning victims to accept a harsh reality by weighing it out with something positive. 

For Marianne, however, it helped her get a better scope of her surroundings and the extent to which this faction operated at this location. She was sure now that this was a resort of some kind, a classy one at that. It became pretty evident from her first day on the “good” list that the trafficking ring worked with the business and not around it. It was likely that all the workers ran on the same dual payrolls. The guests were more of a mystery to her. She couldn’t tell which were “customers” and which were just there for the hospitality. None of them seemed to pay much mind to a woman being escorted around via a death grip on her arm. Maybe that spoke more to society than anything else, but she was sure none of them would be of help to her in an escape attempt either way. 

It was looking more and more like jumping off her balcony was the most viable option. She couldn’t leave Sacha and the other girls behind, though. She needed to make sure they could be secure before she made her move, because, once she did, the others would be moved and she would likely lose them forever.

At this point, that was not a loss she was willing to take. She was all in now. Being Roland’s play thing had to count for something, had to amount to some good, or she wouldn’t be able to stomach this reality for much longer.

“You look so serious, babydoll,” His disgusting voice dripped with condescension as he sat across from her at the dinner table, “What are you thinking about?”

Ripping your throat out with my bare hands, “Nothing”.

They were seated in the same dining area as her first night. Not being drugged this time, it was easy to see just how popular the place was. She couldn’t help but think of how many people probably saw her, obviously heavily under the influence and being dragged to a room, and simply looked the other way.

People could justify and normalize anything. It was certainly what Roland was attempting to do.

“You should be thinking about what you want to say to your people,” Roland added, taking a swig of his beer.

Oh yeah, she thought, he wanted her to clear his name. It seemed to her to be a pretty stupid idea. The risks associated with letting her make a statement with the opportunity to say anything really didn’t add up to her. Either he was relying on the threat of harm to the other girls or he had really invested in the idea that he could train her to behave.

“When?” She asked as nonchalantly as possible.

He seemed satisfied with her engagement, “The sooner the better, really… but I need to know that it will go off without a hitch”.

“Hm,” she forced herself to take a bite of the salad in front of her and eyed the exit. He needed more buy-in from her, she could sense it. This was all too surreal, though, playing house with the man she despised most. She wasn’t sure how much more she could give. And she was pretty sure it might come off as suspicious at this point anyhow.

Maybe the idea was to wait, to continue to condition her. That could mean weeks of this.

She would much prefer to be locked up in a cage again.

“And how do I get everyone to believe everything was just a big misunderstanding?” She had to ask, “There are so many loose ends…”

“You’ll have to take the majority of the blame, of course,” He flipped his hand as if it were no big deal, “Say you were abusing the drugs yourself, own up to your vendetta against me… but then we can write it all off as a lover’s quarrel”.

“That…” she bit her lip, suppressing her rage, “doesn’t sound like it would work”.

He narrowed his eyes at her, calculating, before shrugging it off, “Well, like I said, we gotta hash some things out. We’ll have to find a way to dispose of that.. Scot you had stringing along. Shouldn’t be too hard to get him shipped back to where he came from, I’m sure he’s pissed his people off with all this… but, believe me, once we do, we’ll be golden. You’ll never have to go back to that dive of a department. We’ll take off to Mexico. You can stop fighting now and just live it up”.

“Just like that?” She tried to inject some optimism into her tone. Her stomach had dropped the moment he made mention of Bog.

“Yeah, just like that,” His shoulders straightened into a more confident pose, “I said I would take care of you. That means anything you want to do”.

I want to shove your body through a wood chipper, “That sounds nice”.

The smug smile on his face told her that she had responded correctly. He was sure he had said some magic words to win her over. It was baffling, really. He knew he couldn’t stay in the country and obviously had a plan to leave already in place. Why did he even need her?

“We can call off the hounds now and release a statement next week,” He explained, “I have some… ends to tie up and then we can go”.

“What about the girls?” She had to ask, though it made his eyes flash with irritation.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about them,” He had a too-wide smile, “They’ll be taken care of…”

Well that seals it, she thought, it was imperative that she provide safe harbor for the girls she did have access to before the week was out. She would need to use every opportunity she could to get support on the outside without spooking her captors.

“Now, how about we retreat to my room for the night”.

Nevermind, she thought, her stomach lurching again, she was going to kill him tonight.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As the sun sank over the eerily quiet town, an enormous wall of dust was building in the distance. It was truly nothing like Bogue had ever seen and it was kind of hard to peel his gaze from. It looked like a solid wall or bare mountain just barreling towards them. It was ominous, but impressive.

He had stopped to look at it just outside of the Sheriff’s Department building. He felt guilty for it in a sense, but he truly needed the pause after taking a call from his very angry mother asking why he wasn’t back yet and before he dove back into the fray. He couldn’t help but feel, also, that the coming storm was some sort of sign.

He stretched his neck and turned back towards the building. Hopefully, it was a good sign. He walked up the last few steps and swung the door open.

The place was buzzing with noise, a seemingly endless number of voices all speaking at the same time. He looked back out towards the curb, noting the crowd of vehicles he had somehow ignored prior.

This was either really good or really bad.

He made his way to the deputy office and scanned the room. The contractor was in the cell in the corner for holding, but he was not alone. A younger man with greasy black hair was sitting on the bench inside, his arms crossed and eyes glued to the wall. The waiting area was packed full of concerned looking citizens, but also some familiar faces.

“Boggy, you’re back!” Dawn jumped up from a seat next to Sunny and….

“Plum,” He growled out, his eyes landing on the small spritely woman. She looked none too pleased to see him as well.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be here!” She nudged Sunny, “This guy hates my guts”.

“He’s the only one I trust,” Dawn defended, coming to stand next to Bogue, “If anyone can use this information, it’s him”.

It was oddly touching and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t help but think that her loyalty was ill-placed.

“I need to talk to him first, before our FBI friends catch up,” Shelby called from the barrier gate as she opened it and motioned Bogue inside.

He excused himself, patting Dawn’s shoulder as he passed, and followed Shelby back past the deputy desks and into the Sheriff’s office. His heart flipped a little when his eyes landed on the leather chair behind the desk. He could just see Marianne there, leaned back into it with her feet on the desk.

“You’re probably wondering who all those people are?” Shelby’s voice knocked him out of his vision. She was rustling with something on the desk. Directly behind her was an entire wall plastered with papers and pins and photographs and post-it notes.

“Oh yeah,” She seemed to find what she was looking for and then looked to the wall, “This is my case board, I started it when Marianne… well, anything relevant to the case, I put it up here. I hope the sheriff won’t mind…”

He walked up and fixed his gaze on a picture of himself unconscious in the hospital and glowered. 

“Sorry,” she chuckled, “I like to be thorough”.

“Well, that you are…” His eyes swept to a portrait of Marianne in full regalia. Her face was cold and distinctive, her posture powerful. 

“Anyways,” She held up the papers in her hands, “All those people out there are leads from the tipline. I had Vega comb over what we got on the line. He let me know it was not easy. A lot of them had variance, a handful were just a delivery van for a florist that was very dismayed to have us search her business. BUT, we found one common thread in a van that was witnessed screeching tires through a red light and then later popping a curb on a sharp turn”.

Bogue took the papers and flipped through a number of transcripts until he saw some maps of the town with marks and notes attached to certain intersections. The notes detailed which witness referenced the area and any evidence found.

“This intersection is right next to where Dawn was taken,” He commented.

“Yeah, and right within the approximate time frame on 3 accounts. It’s a wonder nobody saw her get taken,” She came over and pointed to the second map, a mark denoting an area next to the small park in the center of town, “This was the next day, right near where we found Dawn”.

“Corroborating accounts, did anyone get a plate?”

“No number, BUT…” she rummaged through a few more papers on the desk, “They all noted a rainbow on it”.

She came back with a printed picture and placed it right in front of him. It was a sample picture of a Hawaii license plate.

“Hawaii? That seem… unusual”.

“See, it would be, but we actually get a handful of these plates every few years from the soldiers being stationed here,” She explained.

“So, this van may have belonged to a soldier?”

“I have petitioned the garrison commander for vehicle records, but he didn’t offer much”.

“Most posts don’t keep close records of the vehicles, but the units may have POV inspections on file,” Bogue clarified, “You can check state residencies, too, but it’s still possible to get a license different than home of record. Just as long as you’ve lived there…”

She was staring at him with a surprised look.

“This isn’t my first case with the United States military”

“Well, thank God for that, huh… We’ll also need that connection now that we know so many sales were funnelled through the construction company working on post”.

“What did you get from Mr. Floyd so far?”

“Not much with the feds hanging around… but I did get some details connecting him to the boy at the strip club. I’m keeping them together for a bit before booking to see who will crack first. Far as I can tell, they’re both chicken shits”.

He looked at her strangely, “You found the night manager already?”

“Yup, Mal practically dragged him in here herself. Someone ought to send that woman flowers or something,” She walked over to the wall and tapped on a picture of the kid and then a picture of the contractor, “All we can corroborate insofar, this guy reported to and receives payment from our big shot here. The office got us prepackaged drugs and additional loads of cash and money counters. I’d say this is how they funnel and maintain all their cash and the contractor is treasurer of their little club…”

“That’s a plausible conclusion,” Bogue agreed, “But this doesn’t help us much with the human trafficking”.

“Well, we need to run checks on all their sites, for sure… but we can get clientele lists now. That should help broaden our suspect pool a bit,” She sighed and dragged her finger over to some papers detailing the properties of the love potion, “which leads us to this. We still have no clue who is producing and packaging”.

“Oh,” he thought of Plum in the waiting area, “I may have some insight on that…”

He left the office and made his way out, a room full of eyes following him. He locked onto the trio and motioned for Plum to follow him back. Dawn stood quickly in clear objection to being left behind.

“I need to know what’s going on,” She stated resolutely.

Bogue looked between the three, contemplating the pros and cons of having them engaged in the complexities of this investigation. When he truly thought about it, though, they were were all a large part of it. Who knew what might come in handy as they tried to hash all this out.

He consented with a nod and a sigh and held the gate open for all of them, Sunny looking the most unsure of the decision.

“Huh,” Shelby’s eyes widened as she watched them file into the office, “now we have a party”.

“This,” Bogue motioned to Plum, “Is the creator of the Love Potion”.

“What?”

“Bogue, honestly!” Plum chided, “You could have worded that better. I WAS the creator. I don’t do that anymore”.

“But, apparently, she does talk under the influence”.

“Oh yes, I know,” Shelby smirked, “I’m her ride half the time. Aura Plum duty, we call it, taking drunks to their homes”.

“As touching as it is to know that I’m a thing, I came here because I have information,” Plum crossed her arms in front of her body, “I remember who I told the ingredients to”.

“Oh?”

“Yes!” She looked to Sunny, who only frowned in return, “It was Doli Nakai”.

“The… dead girl?” Bogue asked.

“Yes”.

“How?” Shelby asked, clearly interested.

“At the Primrose”.

“There’s a bar at the Primrose?” Dawn asked, hands on hips.

“No,” Plum shook her head, “It was a hungover slash still-a-little-bit-drunk breakfast. You know how it goes, you meet a stripper in the early morning hours, you start talking about existential truths-”

“And drugs,” Bogue added sourly.

“Well, they really go hand-in-hand, don’t they?” She shrugged, "She had been dealing with her brother, but she really only got the drugs into the club for a small cut".

"She was dealing?" Bogue took his notepad out of his pocket and fumbled with his pen to start taking notes, "Before the Love Potion?"

"Yeah, family business, I guess. She was most concerned with finding something with an easy come-down, something that makes you feel good without robbing your energy or making you violent," Plum recalled, "Nothing was quite doing it... so I told her about the Love Potion. She was such a smart girl, asking me questions about production ratios and such..."

"When was this?" 

"Oh, last summer, I'd say. I remember it was right around the time Anita was out of town for a weekend. I get bored when she's gone..."

"That fall was our first arrest for Love Potion," The Deputy informed.

"So, if Doli was the origin of the drugs," Bogue scratched down a few more notes, "Why did she end up abducted and then murdered?"

A hush fell over the room.

"Well..." Sunny interjected cautiously, "The drugs were obviously tied to this group doing all the other stuff, she would have had to get it to them at some point, right? And if she found out about all that other stuff, I don't think Doli would be okay with it..."

"It's a bit speculative to say, but..." Bogue shrugged, "At the very least, we need to find out who she was talking to. We need Mal for that".

A loud roar interrupted their conversation, the wind beating against the window behind Bogue, the sand hissing as it blasted the glass. The whole building seemed to creak from the force, unrelenting and pervasive.

"So what is all of this going to do to help us find Marianne?" Dawn demanded.

Everyone looked to her silently, their faces solemn and full of regret, knowing they did not have a proper answer for her.

Bogue ached at the thought that every thread they pulled only seemed to lead them further away from Marianne. It was all well and good to be making progress on the drugs and there was certainly a connection to the abductions and trafficking, but it was taking too long.

If the contractor had access to the records of each facet of their well-woven web, they needed him to reveal the right leads now.

“Let me interview Floyd,” Bogue said finally, pocketing his notepad “Can you get me a secure room?”

“Of course,” Shelby put her hands on her hips and shrugged, “But we’ll need to distract the feds. Chain of custody is about to switch over and this could be considered witness tampering”.

“I just need fifteen minutes with him. This storm should hold them up for at least a little while”.

“I can keep the agents occupied when they get here,” Dawn offered with a raise of her hand, “I’m a grieving sister, they can’t ignore me”.

“I’ll help,” Sunny offered, receiving a smile from Dawn, “Aura and I can tell them about Doli”.

“Works for me,” The deputy nodded, “But do you think you can get him to talk in such little time?”

“Yeah,” Bogue said, cracking his neck with a precise jerk, “He’ll talk”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo
> 
> How dead should Roland be at the end of this series? I'm thinking super-ultra dead and dissolved in a vat of acid... But it's never that simple.  
> Also, Shelby is developing into quite the leader. I wouldn't blame Marianne if she decided to retire early after this and endorse her best deputy as the next sheriff.  
> Maybe she could just run off with Bog and leave all this behind to live happily ever after and.... yeah, nothing's ever that simple.


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This chapter contains dark themes and scenarios, up to and including physical violence, sex trafficking, drugging, and sexual assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued patience!
> 
> This one is a little bit longer, but I wanted to get a set number of developments in and they were bigger than I planned.

The dust was still bearing down on the building by the time Deputy Shelby had a conference room set up for an interrogation. The crowd in the room the floor below had quieted down into muted murmurs as they were being interviewed by deputies and told they could wait out the worst of the storm there.

Floyd was seated inside, uncuffed and given a coffee behind the locked door. It was a very casual setup. It would be perfect.

Bogue clicked his pen a few times outside the door as the roof above creaked and popped with the force of the wind. He was gathering his thoughts, organizing them into a set of questions and postures that would motivate someone driven by money to talk. He supposed it could be considered getting into character, because you never were the exact same person going into different interviews.

Well, he thought, worst comes to worse, he could still beat it out of him. It wasn't something he had ever considered... at least not professionally. But it was worth it in this case. He would lay down his badge in a heartbeat if it meant finding Marianne or freeing those girls.

With a final click, he opened the door and entered, breathing out as he did to relax his demeanor. 

"Mr. Floyd," He nodded and took a seat at the head of the long conference table that was the solitary feature of the windowless room. He was catty-corner to the suspect and stared him down as he took out a fresh pad of paper. He would be making notes, but not official ones. Shelby would be doing that from another room, watching the live recording of their exchange. His notes would serve as another tool in the interrogation. He found in the past that a mere raise of the eyebrows and a concealed scribbling was enough to drive a criminal's paranoia to a boiling point.

"They sent you?" The man asked, scratching at the tabletop with a chewed down nail. His expensive suit was now wrinkled and dank from the sweat and uncomfortable cell. He had a permanent crease between his two graying eyebrows and his hair fell from its hold in greasy pulled clumps across his forehead.

"They sent me," Bogue nodded, "I think you know what I want to talk about".

"The money," Floyd grumbled, "And the... drugs. They weren't mine, I swear. I was just holding them for somebody!"

"Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that exact same line? Can you guess how many times it was true?"

"Honest! I had nothing to do with those drugs, it was one of my guys," He tried to deflect.

"So, you're throwing your own employees under the bus," Bogue took his pen to a page and wrote down a shorthand scribble, "Then why were you running off with so much of it?"

"I just... didn't want to get implicated in... all this".

"All this?"

Floyd was quiet, his gaze returning to his fidgeting hand, "You know, all the stuff going on in the county".

"Oh I know very well," Bogue locked his gaze onto the shrinking man, "And I think you do too".

"It's common knowledge, the news is everywhere..."

"Let me ask you, does your side just deal in drugs? Or do you move the girls too?"

"What girls?"

"The ones you sell as sex slaves".

"Woah," He sat straight, his face panicked and hands raised defensively, "I have nothing to do with that".

"Really? Because we know the drugs and girls go together. And right now, ALL evidence is pointing to the books YOU keep," Bogue explained, "We know to follow the money in these cases and it just so happens that all that money flows through you. It would be a snap to name you the mastermind of this whole thing. All we would need is one good witness..."

"Yeah? Well, you don't have one, do you?"

"We have Nicky. That boy is in trouble. I imagine he would do just about anything to cut a deal," He shrugged, "Personally, I don't see why not. He's just an associate, a little guy. Not a big shot like you".

"I'm not a big shot, I don't have anything to do with this!"

"You have had enough to do with this that if we don't get anymore names, you're going down for all of it".

Floyd went silent again, but stared at the far wall intently.

"Here's the thing," Bogue started off, leaning back in the chair and tenting his fingers together, "I don't think you sold any girls. I don't think you could stomach that..."

The man shook his head.

"But in order for me to prove that and help those poor girls, I'm going to need your help. I need names, I need locations".

His breathing picked up and her covered his face with both hands, leaning forward, clearly distraught.

"You going to jail is a given at this point, help me keep it from being a life sentence... or death sentence".

Floyd shook his head rapidly, "It doesn't matter, they'll just kill me otherwise".

"Who?"

He just continued to shake his head.

Bogue sighed and leaned forward, "You're more afraid of them than you are of the law, I can see that. But I think you are failing to understand what is at stake here... If the drugging, rape, maiming and murdering of innocent girls is not something you can bring yourself to care about, I can find something for you to care about".

"Wh-" Floyd looked up apprehensively, "what do you mean?"

"I see you're married," Bogue stated, Floyd immediately covered his wedding band, "You got any kids?"

"T-...two, they're both away in college..."

"You aren't worried about what those people will do to them when they find out you're talking to the cops?"

"I don't...I'm not!"

"That's not what they'll be saying on the street... in fact, I might just cut a deal with Nicky, let him spread the word a bit on bail. And away to lockup you'll go. No deal, no friends, no protection, and a bounty on you, your wife, your kids, pets, whatever..."

The man was shaking now, staring down at the desk with a despairing frown, "You can't do that".

He was unsure, giving Bogue his perfect opening, "I think you'd be surprised. If I wanted, I could make your life sentence in prison a living hell. There are minors being passed around in that ring. Convicts aren't renowned for their moral compass, but most of them don't take kindly to someone hurting a child. Typically, those records are kept confidential for that very reason. However, it would be only too easy to let the word slip and ask the guards to look the other way".

The man was nearly crying now, rubbing the side of his neck with a nervous hand, "...I'm screwed..."

"No matter how this turns out for you, yes, you absolutely are IF you don't talk to me," Bogue explained, "If you help me find the real bad guys, you and yours will be safe, I'll make sure of it. Hell, with good behavior, I can see you getting out in a handful o' years. You'll be free to help your family transition into protective custody before your hearing, too".

Floyd took a deep breath, still rubbing his neck hard, "They'll be safe?"

"As safe as can be".

He ran both hands into his hair, connecting his fingers behind his head, "I should have known this would happen, I should have bailed... ever since one of you came into my office asking about a girl".

"One of me?"

"You know... a foreigner. Same accent. He said he was looking for a girl.... Elyse, I think. Said it was his daughter".

Bogue thought back to the murdered Royal Army Officer that brought him here in the first place. He could not recall mention of any children. But if that were the case and it brought him to the contractor, then he must have been onto something.

"Was this man in uniform?"

"Yeah, not the usual... nametape said Johnston".

Bogue let out a breath and made an actual note. It was indeed his victim. Oddly enough, this was the first breakthrough in his original case, after everything that had happened.

"Did you know his daughter?"

"No, I told you, I had nothing to do with the girls..."

"But you did know about them".

The man blinked at him, "I just thought... you know, prostitutes".

"Since you were laundering money for all this, you had to have had someone from that side of things coming by".

"The Daymond boys, mostly... but... there's one guy, works for me, works for them on that side. One of my foremen, Robby. I don't ask any questions about that. I'd be afraid to anyway, he's a big dude..."

"Wait...Foreman?"

"Yeah, he works our gov contracts. It's easier to secure those things because he was a Ranger. Couldn't get rid of him if I wanted to... even though he steals tools".

Bogue thought back to the tapes and realized immediately his mistake. He had assumed that the contractor was the foreman they talked about in the recording. In doing so, he also assumed that the men in the tape had reported back to the company building. Robby might be the real lead.

"Where might we find your foreman now?" Bogue asked.

"Normally, he does whatever he wants, whenever. Hops between jobsites... his office trailer is at one of the sites on post".

News would have spread about the bust by now. Bogue did not expect to find the foreman easily at this point. Time was of the essence, as usual.

"His home?" Bogue asked.

"I have no idea, no record of it".

"He was working for you".

Floyd looked up at him again with a shake of his head, "You really don't understand... There are much greater powers at play here than me and fucking money magic tricks. I am a facilitator for untouchable men and their dogs".

"Untouchable? Nobody is untouchable".

"If you believe that, then you really don't know how this country works..."

Bogue frowned, and then tore a paper out of his notepad and slid it and his pen over to the man.

"Point me in the right direction and I'll test that theory".

"Your funeral..."

He took pen to paper and began to write. Bogue watched as the man scribed with unsteady hands, stopping every few moments to think, before writing again. The wind outside was still blowing, but the hiss of the dust had subsided. Somewhere far off, thunder was rumbling, sending its warning far ahead of the bulk of the storm. Twenty or so minutes later, as Floyd finished his list, the thunder was impossible to ignore and hard drops of infrequent rain began to tap on the rooftop above.

Bogue took the list with a blank expression, deciding to read it out of the man's site, but unable to ignore a few titles that caught his eye: Senator, Lieutenant, Mayor...

"Okay," Bogue nodded, trying to hide the hard swallow accompanying the sudden sinking feeling, "Good... "

Bogue stood and turned to leave without another word, but Floyd stood quickly.

"Wait! What about what we talked about? The deal?"

"Oh, that," He turned slightly, "I can't cut deals. I have no jurisdiction here. Maybe you can find a sympathetic ear with the FBI..."

The man's face fell completely as he fell back down to the chair, speechless.

Bogue might have almost felt bad for him as he left. He could not spare much pity these days, however. Not when each moment made it increasingly clear in his mind that he was about to go to war.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There was a party going on. Marianne could hear the laughing and chatter from Roland's room. The music was loud, but not rowdy, a melodic cello concerto. She had been sequestered into his quarters long before the apparent festivities began.

If they had been planning for this, she had not gathered a clue to it.

Roland himself had been pleasantly absent, though she caught a glimpse of him in tuxedo as she was moved. Hopefully that meant he would be kept busy throughout the night.

She would live the rest of her life content if she could wipe him off the face of the Earth, it was true. More importantly, she was left unsupervised in one of the only rooms she was fairly confident had no surveillance. And a balcony. The only issue now was that the dang thing was deadlocked and she turned the room over methodically and failed to find a key.

So here she was, on her knees in a silk slip, using a bent wire hanger and two tie pins to try and manipulate the lock. And cursing. So much cursing.

She never really was all that good at picking locks, but she had prided herself on being resourceful at the very least. Which begged the question, what exactly was her plan if she DID get the door open?

A party was a good cover for an escape, but it didn't solve the problem of rescuing the girls. In all likelihood, they would be drugged up and thrown to the sharks in the ballroom and various bedchambers. She wouldn't be able to round them all up and she certainly could not cause a scene at such a large shindig. Security was likely heightened at this time anyway.

Even if she wasn't able to flee now, it would be advantageous to have a way unlocked should she find the opportunity.

The door to the room rattled, indicating that someone was unlocking it. Marianne retracted her tools with a begrudging sigh and tucked them quickly between the frame and box spring of the bed behind her before smoothing out her slip and sitting atop the comforter. She tried to find a book or something to busy herself with, but had nothing near enough.

The door swung open and Roland swept in, brows knit and a phone to his ear. Luckily, he did not even glance her way as he slammed the door closed behind him.

"Yes, I know, but this will be good for us.... in the long run!" He was arguing something quite emphatically, "It wasn't part of the plan, but this is a better one..."

He was worried, his face reflecting fear as he listened to the voice on the other end. His eyes darted to Marianne briefly, considering something that seemed beyond her.

"Well, I don't know who told you that, I've kept her drugged this whole time".

He was lying. To someone of seemingly greater authority.

"No... no! She can't be in the party, she's mine! I don't care who spent what, I was always clear on this!"

The voice on the other end raised, it sounded like a woman. 

"She could be our ticket out of this, though!"

More shouting and, clear as day, "...IDIOT!"

"Then what would you have me do?......No....no no.... haven't I done well for you? Haven't I made this whole thing smooth... up until now..."

His gaze went back to Marianne, stricken. 

He nodded solemnly, running a hand over his face, "yeah... yeah, alright. Fine".

He hung up the phone, turned and set it down on the dresser. He let out a breath and then kicked the dresser suddenly, the movement knocking his hair out of place. He fixed it as he turned back towards Marianne, a cheap, fake grin plastered on his face.

"Slight change of plans, buttercup," He approached her slowly, "Seems your presence is required downstairs".

"At the party," she stated more than asked, fully aware of what it likely implied, "What do I need to do?"

"Just hang around, mostly..." He sat beside her and she thought how easy it would be to reach down, grab one of the tie pins, or both, and drive it through the side of his neck.

"Mostly?"

"Sh... they want you to 'mingle'," He tensed, his hands fisting into the bedspread, "But I won't let anyone... they won't touch you".

She could just about laugh at the irony of his "concern". The man who raped her, posing to protect her "virtue". It fit, though, it really did. She knew these kind of men and she knew what that made her. She was his property in his mind. It wasn't about her, it was about someone encroaching on his territory.

"Will I need Love Potion?" She asked.

"Yes," He nodded, "they'll know if you aren't dusted".

This was problematic. She wouldn't be able to keep tabs on her surroundings and memorize faces if she was as heavily drugged as she had been before.

"How can I be sure they don't touch me if I'm messed up?" She asked, hopeful.

He turned and looked her in the eye, a cold, calculating rigidity to his gaze. She thought again of how her hands might move to end him and wondered if any of those urges were betrayed in her features for him to read. Roland was many awful things, possibly even delusional, but he wasn't stupid. Surely, on some level, he knew she didn't really want him and she wanted to escape. That she wanted to destroy everything he built.

His eyes narrowed. Shit, she thought and preemptively hated herself for the measures she was about to resort to.

With a breath to quiet the rising bile in her stomach, she leaned forward and locked her lips to his as convincingly as possible. It was seconds, but felt like minutes, before he reacted, grabbing the nape of her neck and pulling her closer to force his tongue into her mouth.

In those moments, she chose to focus on the fact that her tactic had worked. It was difficult, however, when she was so repulsed by her current actions and wanting to bite his tongue off and throw him face-first through the balcony door.

He pulled away after an eternity, his cold gaze replaced with a smug smirk.

"I suppose," he started, standing and straightening his suit, "We could get away with just a small dosing".

Good enough.

"So long as you play your part," He went to the closet and opened it up, pulling out a sparkly, short cocktail dress, "Be nice and all that..."

"I can be nice," she promised.

"When you want to," He threw the dress down on the bed and then pulled a bag out of his inner coat pocket, "This will make you want to".

She looked back down at the flashy dress and sighed before standing with a nod, "Alright, let's do this".

"There's my girl".

NOT your girl, she thought, but smiled instead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was pouring as they pulled on post, the wind howling and swaying the truck they rode in. Thankfully, the storm had held up the FBI long enough for Bogue and Shelby to slip out and follow their leads alone. Dawn, Sunny, and Plum stayed behind, still determined to make good on their offer to distract the agents. 

Bogue was grateful for all the cooperation. He was determined now to find this Robby character and extract every bit of information from him as possible. The storm was horrendous, however, and visibility was low as the night matured. It was not an ideal situation for tracking someone down.

"The guard said the foreman's trailer is by the field..." Shelby stated, taking a slow turn through churning street waters, "My guess is that it looks more like a lake by now".

Bogue gazed out the window, trying to decipher what he was seeing through the thick downpour barely illuminated by streetlight and occasional flash of lightning . He wished he had paid closer attention to this place when he stayed here. Chances were, he had been past the jobsites numerous times. He may have even crossed paths with the foreman and been none the wiser.

"Oh, I think that's it," Shelby pointed over the steering wheel to a flooded, muddy area marked by machinery and one nondescript trailer unit. 

"There's a truck pulling out," Bogue noted aloud. It was a hefty truck, with large tires that looked to be made for wading through the muddy terrain. It was leaving fast enough to be producing a steady spray behind it.

"A cold beer says that's our guy," Shelby commented, accelerating to meet the truck as it neared the road.

"What are you-"

"I am not about to get into a high-speed chase in this weather," She explained and then slammed on the brakes, sliding the truck to a stop perpendicular to the fast approaching vehicle. She flipped on the lights and the other truck slid to a stop.

For a moment, they only seemed to stare at each other. Bogue contemplated getting out of the car, but instead reached for his gun in response to the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

The other truck's brights flipped on, flooding their cab with blinding light. The next moment, there was a roar of a revving engine and they were rammed into, the front end crunching as they slid to the far side of the road.

"Son of a bitch!" Shelby yelled, trying to take control as they spun over the slick roadway.

Spots still in his eyes, Bogue unbuckled and hopped out before Shelby was able to stop fully. The other vehicle was backing up quickly and jerked around, allowing inertia and rainwater to swing them onto the right side of the road. The new position allotted Bogue a view of the man in the driver's seat. He was tall, his head nearly pressing against the top of the cab. They locked eyes only for a second, cold and detached. The man was completely unphased, but Bogue could not make out much more of his appearance before he gunned the engine, spun tires and took off.

Bogue un holstered his weapon and took aim at one of the tires, but stopped with his finger on the trigger guard. There was a Hawaii license plate.

As the suspect sped around the street corner, Bogue re holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone, fumbling to make a call on the wet touchscreen.

"What the hell?" Shelby yelled from the vehicle, "You let him get away, get in!"

He ran back to the truck as he finally made the call, "Hang back, we need him to stay on post".

"What are you doing? Calling in a Bolo?" She asked, turning the steering wheel hard as she navigated back around to the direction the suspect had been going.

"Yes, but hopefully also activating emergency measures to blockade and strip all exits," He explained and then growled as the line continued to ring.

"You really think they like you that much?"

"Like? I'm hoping they fear me that much..."

Someone finally picked up on the other end.

"Stuff," he growled out, " Sound the alarm!"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The room danced and glittered in front of her eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors and movement. Champagne glasses clinked in her ear, her senses being select in their sensitivities.

Love Potion was a much different experience in smaller doses. The euphoria was still there, and some movements melded figures together, but she could probably count the number of guests in the ballroom... And she actually knew where she was.

Most of the men in the room were older, wearing expensive suits and shit-eating grins as the pulled girls whichever way they wanted them, feigning conversations as their hands travelled without reserve.

As Marianne walked through the room, at least a few of the men had reached out for her, hands on her elbow or shoulder or ass, but she kept going, eyes peeled for Sacha first and foremost. She recognized some of the men, however, much to her disappointment and despair. Notoriously successful businessmen were a given, and the newscaster and group of mildly famous musicians weren't much of a surprise, but she recognized politicians too. A congressman, a mayor from a neighboring county, city organizers...

There was even a fellow sheriff. He smiled at her as she passed. Her blood ran cold.

As notable as the people were that she recognized, she could only wonder about the ones she didn't. Some had several girls beside them, lined up on couches in various states of undress. It was surreal, even for the effects of the drug, she felt hopeless. 

The room seemed to close in on her, and her slip of a dress seemed to squeeze over her lungs quite suddenly.

"Well, never in a million years would I have thought to see you here, Sheriff," A hand grabbed her arm and flipped her around.

Her opposite hand instinctively closed into a fist, but she made sure not to take the swing, reminding herself of the cover of obedience she needed to maintain. She almost changed her mind when she met eyes with the man.

"Chief Marley?" She gasped. He was the head of the police department. Reggie's boss.

"The one and only," He nodded, his silver hair reflecting the light of the chandeliers as he tilted his head down to survey her form entirely, "My... you certainly do clean up well".

He spun her, ending it with a tug that brought her uncomfortably near to him.

"What are you doing here?" She had to ask, "Why?"

He chuckled, a dark, rumbling chide, "You didn't think Sheriff Jones was so slick that he covered all this up himself, did you?"

"I..." she was speechless, her mind racing through the details of the last year. And the evidence of uniformed individuals taking a leading role in the trafficking operations.

"You've caused so much trouble," He explained, running a hand up her side, "Made so many waves. You have no idea how busy you've made me, trying to discredit your every claim, confusing jurisdictions, jumbling investigations into such a convoluted, bureaucratic mess that they become more trouble than they're worth..."

"Is that why," She tried to compose herself as his hands travelled over her, "Is that why the bodies were dumped on the border?"

"The ones you found, yes," He nodded, his hand suddenly at her neck, "But I wouldn't have stayed with that location, personally. I think someone took a liking to screwing with you. It's much more effective to 'lose' bodies on the rez..."

"...why are you telling me all this?" She asked.

His fingers curled over her neck, cradling her chin and forcing her face upward, "Surely you realize by now that you have an expiration date... Nobody snitches from the grave".

He squeezed easily, clamping his hand around her larynx and restricting her air supply. She gasped at the feel, only a wheeze coming out. She grabbed onto his wrist, trying to pry him off to no avail. 

He squeezed tighter, pushing her against a nearby wall,"You know, I have a LOT of headaches brought about by the likes of you. You relentless, nosey bitch... you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this".

She took a swing and punched the side of his elbow. His arm folded, giving her momentary reprieve to let out a trapped breath and gasp in another before he righted himself, lifting her to her toes against the wall.

"You just don't give up," He grabbed the skirt of her dress and started hiking it up as she hauled off more ineffectual blows to his arm, "Good".

He leaned into her, his breath ripe with booze, and hoisted the dress up enough for her legs to get free. With all the strength in her, she drove her knee into his crotch. He yelped and dropped her, shifting his attention to his wounded pride.

Marianne fell to her knees, gasping and rubbing at the tenderized flesh. She wanted to focus on the oxygen returning to her blood, but she knew she was in a precarious position. She intended to keep a low profile, this scene could blow that out of the water. She looked around, but nobody was paying them too much mind, probably because this was a party full of similar assaults.

Still, Chief Marley could stir up problems if he got too vocal from her actions. Still struggling to breathe, she stood and ambled toward his crouched form. He was trying to stand again, his face livid, but clearly in pain. He opened his mouth to say something, but Marianne ducked down and swiftly drove the heel of her hand upward into his chin with all her might. He fell over to the ground, stunned and limp. She reached into her bra and pulled out the mostly-full baggy of Love Potion that Roland had not kept track of after dosing her. She poured it into her hand and pressed it into the man's face as he started to come to. He gasped in surprise and she felt the dust slide from her hand, being sucked into his nose and mouth.

There was something oddly satisfying at watching the man react to the drug. He practically clawed at his face when he realized what had happened, but the next moment he looked entirely lost, gazing around him trying to find some sort of bearing on reality.

Not able to help herself, she grabbed the disoriented man by the shirt, squeezing his collar until she saw it cut into his slouch neck, "I hope you feel hopeless in this moment. I hope you're scared".

He looked down at her frantically, his hands grabbing at her weakly.

"You're not just a terrible cop, you’re a shitty excuse of a man," She seethed, "And you're gonna get what's coming to you. I promise".

She tossed him away and he fumbled to the ground again, his limbs not quite working how they needed to. She wanted to hurt him so much more, torture him.... but she needed this night to work for her and her cause and beating him would not satisfy anything aside from her own desires.

She straightened herself up, depositing the nearly empty bag of LP back into her dress and smoothing over her bruising neck, before continuing her walk around the room. She still had a nice buzz from the drugs, but the incident had given her a rush of adrenaline that made her sharper to her surroundings.

All around her was a nightmare of debauchery executed by people so privileged, they were beyond reprieve, even when it meant trading innocent human lives, passing girls around like possessions until they exhausted their use for them.

Part of her wanted to just barricade the doors and burn the place to the ground, but there were far more girls at this party than she had expected. The innocent lives would outnumber the monsters she would be ridding the world of.

She hurried to the bathroom and practically ran to the sink on the other side of the door. She leaned over it with heavy breaths, battling the bile rising in her throat. She ran some cold water from the polished tap and splashed it on her face. She had to get back out there…

A violent retching behind her drew her back to her surroundings. She turned.

There were girls lining the walls, huddled and leaning on each other, young and vulnerable, eyes distant, bodies limp. Some of them were crying, others looked like they had no tears left to shed. A stall hung open with a girl leaning over the toilet, voiding her stomach into the bowl while the rest of her body trembled.

Marianne looked down at her feet and rubbed a hand behind her neck. Time was running out for each and every one of these girls. Each day, each encounter, just brought them one step closer to early ruin. Their shared trauma had already ensured that they would never be the same ever again. 

Outside, the elites were laughing and celebrating. In here, they were mourning for the destruction that these men had wrought, they were holding together the fragments of their former selves with tattered hands.

Her breathing now erratic, Marianne rubbed her hand down to her shoulder and felt for the bite mark that now felt like a gift. She inhaled hard when she noted that the skin had smoothed over.

Looking over her shoulder and into the mirror, she looked for it with eyes and hands. There was mild discoloration and the faintest of texture changes. She could just barely make out the crescent where Bog’s mouth had been.

It has to be tonight, she realized with a start. There were so many girls and so many people who needed to answer for this all in one place. Something had to be done tonight.

It scared the hell out of her, but she knew what she had to do.

With a ragged breath, she smoothed her hands against the back of her neck and made her way towards the exit.

She had to find Roland.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn’t much longer after the alarms went off and the spikes went up at the entrances that a gate guard was yelling over the radio for backup. Shelby was driving like a madwoman through the dark, soaked streets, but she flipped the truck around as soon as they knew which gate to go to.

Bogue’s blood ran cold, however, when the transmission was cut short by a piercing gunshot. They sped toward the gate, pulling up just in time to see a large man swinging an automatic weapon around as he jumped out of the truck, which had caught its front tires on the spike strip and impaled itself on the metal rods blocking the way out.

Guards were lining up behind cover and taking aim. Shelby pulled to the side and out of range just in time for the suspect to open fire.

What came next was a barrage of bullets, flying to and through the statuesque individual.

“Don’t kill him!” Bogue yelled over the radio, knowing it most unlikely that anyone would hear him.

The man appeared to be laughing and ducked behind his truck, blood pouring from one wound or another. How he was still standing, Bogue had no clue, but he did not appear to be giving up the fight. He was reloading his weapon.

“Fuck,” Bogue moved reflexively, grabbing the bullet-proof vest from under the seat and kicking the door open. Every other part of him screamed to stop, but an overheated drive of purpose in his chest pushed him forward with fervor. 

He ran, pulling the vest on as he inserted himself into the prior path of the raining ammo, holding up his hands to the soldiers to stop as Shelby screamed at him to do the same.

This was very easily the stupidest thing he had ever done.

The suspect looked up as he neared, his eyes at first wide with shock. But he slapped a full clip into place, despite his surprise, and primed the rifle, just as his expression turned to sadistic joy.

“Fuck….fuckfuckfuckfuck,” Bog sprinted past the point he thought possible, knowing his vest wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference in another second.

He was a yard away when the man swung the weapon around and fired. Bog stumbled in shock as the bullet was deployed from a barrel pointing far above him. A millisecond later, the area went almost completely dark as his ears rang at a deafening pitch.

He had shot the spotlight out, Bogue realized almost instantly. There would be no pause between shots, though, so he dove where he had seen the weapon and ended up grabbing the searing barrel just as it fired again.

Essentially blind and deaf, Bogue knew he had to take control of the weapon to get to an even remotely equal footing as the much broader suspect. He shoved the barrel up and, by some miracle, managed to grab the man by the wrist of the firing hand. He slid his grip to the thumb and torqued it backwards with all his might, holding tight to the weapon with his other fisted hand.

The foreman released his grip over the trigger, but jerked his own grip on the barrel towards himself. Bogue was pulled forward and met with a stone fist to the gut that knocked the wind out of him. He gasped, but righted himself enough to grab the gun with both hands and twist. The man bore down on him with his weight, throwing off Bogue’s footing, but still turning his arm with the twist. 

Bogue took the opportunity to drive his knee up into the twisted elbow of the foreman. He could feel the satisfying pop of dislocation and suddenly the rifle was his alone. He jumped back, trying to get some distance from the much stronger man, and brought the rifle to his shoulder. The area was coming into focus enough now that he could see the figure before him standing without fear.

Bogue shouted for him to get down to his knees and put his hands behind his head. He took a step forward, making Bogue step back again and shout the order once more. He stepped again.

Suddenly, their small area was flooded with light once more as soldiers rushed ahead with lit and lifted rifles.

The Foreman smiled broadly at Bogue, giving him an oddly appreciative nod as he finally lifted his hands up behind his head and sank to his knees with a chuckle. MPs converged on him, shoving his large frame to the ground and cuffing him tightly.

Bogue gaped at the scene, trying to process what had just transpired in the last few seconds as he lowered the barrel to the ground. The ringing in his ears was beginning to be replaced with the shouts of the soldiers and a loud rumbling of thunder.

He let out a long breath as the once-forgotten rain pounded down on his shoulders. It was only a moment’s reprieve, however, as he was spun around and gripped tightly by the shoulders.

“What on God’s green earth is your problem!?” Shelby shrieked at him, giving him a shake as she glared, “Do you have a fucking death wish!?”

“He would have just kept firing,” He reasoned, knowing it wasn’t the full purpose for his actions.

“There’s PROCEDURE for that! Shit, Bog, that was insane!” She let him go and ran a hand through her hair, watching as the MPs hauled the foreman off into a cruiser.

“Procedure hasn’t been doing us any favors…”

“Yeah, but there’s a line, a big fat line!”

Bogue only shrugged. Shelby sighed, but then punched him in the shoulder.

“Don’t do that shit again,” she ordered, “Marianne would KILL me if something happened to you, I just know it…”

Bogue couldn’t help it, he smiled at the thought, which only made Shelby more exasperated.

She shook her head at him, condemning him further under her breath as she turned to consider the ambulance that pulled up as soldiers rendered aid to their wounded comrades.

Bogue looked to the cruiser holding the foreman. He could only see the outline of the man, but he was fairly certain he was being watched. 

It was unnerving. The man probably could have made it out, probably could have overpowered him seconds before the cavalry arrived and fought through. He probably could have killed him.

But he was confident in his surrender. Certainly it wouldn’t seem that way to the others after all that ruckus, but Bogue saw it and felt it. The Foreman was arrested because he allowed them to arrest him, because he wanted them to.

Behind him, Shelby’s phone began to ring.

Bogue’s instincts were telling him that there was a larger plan at work.

Lightning crackled overhead, followed promptly by a crash and roll of thunder.

He was fairly certain that the Foreman would not be held in custody for very long.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Shelby asked, her voice exasperated.

It was really only a question of method. Would the Foreman be freed violently or quietly, by some perversion of law and order?

“Don’t touch anything!” Shelby yelled into her phone, “We’ll be right there!”

Bogue looked over his shoulder at her perplexedly. She jogged to him and grabbed his arm hard before pulling him in the direction of her vehicle.

“What’s going on?” Bogue demanded, but followed her lead.

“We have to go,” She explained, “Marianne just called her father”.

“She….what?”

With a new racing in his heart, he hurried into the truck and buckled in as Shelby ran to the driver side.

“She called her dad! I have a man stationed with the Mayor and tech on the phones, but we have to go now!”

“But she…. What did she say?”

“She said she’s safe and…” Shelby flipped the truck around as she shook her head, “And she said to stop trying to find her, apparently…That she’s moving on”.

“What?” His veins filled with ice at the very thought of those words coming out of her mouth, “Why?”

Shelby only shrugged, “That’s what we’re going to find out”.

Inside, the cab of the truck flooded with a tremulous silence. Outside, the rain pounded against it, a deafening chorus of tumult and rage as they sped through the night, praying for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself with the whole "sound the alarm" bit... It was clunky, but there it is XD
> 
> Shelby had obviously learned everything she knows from her Sheriff. Bad habits and all... Bog totally sees the similarities, but she's a poor carbon copy at best to our irreplaceable main. 
> 
> Anyways, get ready... Marianne is gearing back up to be the badass we all deserve.


End file.
